Civilities
by Della-Avril
Summary: Seras Victoria is the unmarried eldest daughter of a social-climbing London family. By what seems a stroke of good luck, Seras manages to attract the attention of a foreign nobleman. [AU][AxS]
1. I

Disclaimer: I do not own _Hellsing_, but I wish that I did. I'd be very rich and happy.

** =noted/further explained at the bottom of the page

* * *

**I.**

Seras couldn't remember the last time she had been quite so anxious.

Yes, her corset _was_ simply too tight, and her bust was showing too much for her liking, but such small wardrobe malfunctions didn't matter. Yes her pale blue dress _was _older (but in fashion, thank you), but Seras could overlook it. Yes, her satin slippers _were_ rather faded, but no one's gaze would be lingering on her feet for long. And yes, she _did_ have to settle with more flowers instead of diamonds, but such trivialities had never worried her before.

Seras smiled at her reflection in the full-length mirror, giving an uncharacteristically girlish twirl and giggle. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips for a quick pop of color and smiled at the results. But, she frowned afterward. This doll, with her smooth blonde hair, delicate silk gloves, and painted face was not the Seras Victoria she knew; but it would have to do, at least for the night.

The Victoria family had_ finally_ been invited to a highly-anticipated _ton*_ ball, complete with ballroom dancing, floor masters, aristocrats, visiting nobles and the like at Woburn Abbey. Her mother had practically swooned when the invitation was delivered two weeks ago, and her father had nearly thrown his back out by taking up so many new cases in order to purchase the newest fashions for the event. Being formally accepted in to polite society was an investment that would pay well for itself over time.

Seras personally thought her family was well-off enough with their upper-middle class social standing, but the perks of having connected connections were impossible to ignore. It was a big night for her family and Seras would perform her duty regardless of how she felt about the matter.

There was a quick knock at her door before it was flung open. Seras started and dropped her hairbrush, cringing when it hit the ground with a sharp _thud_. Oh dear, she hoped its delicate silver back hadn't shattered – it was one of the nicer things that she owned. Her mother, thank god, hadn't seemed to notice.

"Seras, have you seen Edith? The carriage is waiting, and I haven't even had the time to tie her corset…" The frantic woman wasted no time and brushed past her eldest daughter in search of the youngest. Seras couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't fret, mother. I helped her dress quite a bit ago – I believe she's using the mirror in the water closet to apply rouge." Seras smiled as she reached for her shawl and fan. Her mother wasn't usually so excitable but this evening was an exception. Mrs. Victoria practically threw her hands up in the air but settled for raising them halfway, because anything more would have creased her silk sleeves.

"Rouge? Rouge! What business do respectable young ladies have with _rouge_?" Her mother practically wailed in exasperation, swiftly turning on her heel and practically hopping out of the room. Seras couldn't hold in her laughter.

"Mother, Caroline assured me that all the other young ladies were wearing it!" Edith must have over heard and stood outside the water closet with the offending lip color in hand.

"Oh yes, and I'm certain Miss Caroline would assure your suitors that _she_ would never be so vulgar as to even think to apply it!" Mrs. Victoria's counterattack was strong, and after a few more feeble protests Edith relented. Seras watched the exchange with a smile, happy to be out of her mother's horse blinders for the first in a long time. The thought was bittersweet, but Seras had accepted it. She approaching the status of an old maid.

If the Victoria family wanted to move up in London society – and by God their mother did – then one of the sisters would have to marry quite well. As respectable (and wealthy) members of the upper-middle class, their family was on the cusp of being accepted among the gentry. However Seras was nineteen and unmarried, practically a death sentence in more places than upper society.

What irritated her mother most about the fact was that two years ago Seras had been avidly pursued by plenty of well-to-do suitors – and still was by the ones that hadn't already married. She had everything a man of the lower gentry or upper middle class could want: beauty, manners, a relatively known family name, a plump dowry, and a respectable reputation.

But Seras was one of those unfortunate "romantics." She didn't want to marry for status or money, but for love. She said she found a majority of her suitors too unkind, too crude, or too unrefined to marry; or, that's at least what she told her father when her rejections came to light at the dinner table. While both Seras and her mother knew the real reason, they also knew that with each passing year any attention directed toward Seras would dwindle until it had been totally turned toward a younger, prettier debutante. Men couldn't wait forever; but in Seras's opinion, love could.

Seras fingered the tarlatsn of her long, pale blue dress. It suited her by bringing out the fairness of her skin and the blue of her eyes, but she had to admit that it paled in comparison to Edith's. Edith had only just turned seventeen the previous month and was considered ripe for the picking.

"Seras…" Edith asked playfully as they followed their mother down the staircase.

"Yes, Edith?" Seras giggled, shoving both their shawls and Edith's fan in her sister's arms. Edith huffed in melodramatic indignation before making a show of hurrying down the last flight to block Seras' way.

"Don't I look _marvelous_?" Edith drawled in an exaggerated, haughty accent that she and Seras used to mock the patronizing, over privileged men their father represented. Seras burst out laughing and ignored her mother's shush from the drawing room, pushing Edith out of the way before taking the time to really get a good look at her younger sister.

"Oh Edith… you're so beautiful!" Her sister's long, flowing white and red bustled muslin gown whose fashionable but acceptable neckline was studded with glimmering rubies and crystal. Her glossy dark brown locks had literally been in ribbons for days to achieve the perfect curls, and her up do was beyond perfection. Seras felt a tinge of envy, but quickly brushed it aside.

It was Edith's turn to shine, and Edith had no qualms when it came to courting men she had no real interest in.

"Thank you, Seras! And you look as gorgeous as usual!" Edith fingered the tarlatan of Seras' dress lightly before stepping away. "It's a wonder why you have yet to be married." She murmured wistfully, handing Seras her shawl as their mother and father entered the foyer. Seras couldn't help her frown.

Comments on her lack of a husband always upset her more than they should, for she was certainly used to them by now. But it was true that she was approaching an age where there were fewer and fewer gentleman asking to sign her card*, and fewer and fewer a chance of her being able to marry for love. If their family was to climb the social ladder, they certainly couldn't have a spinster with the Victoria family name. It was a shame, a disgrace, and totally unacceptable. It was a subject that made Seras uncomfortable, anxious, and guilty.

In this case, it seemed more logical to emphasize Seras' appearance, but attracting suitors was not her problem; it was the courtship that always led to an inevitable rejection on her part. Edith was a flower ready to blossom, and everyone agreed that it should be a wealthy respectable young man who picked her. Mrs. Victoria was of the opinion that Seras had certainly already had her chance and needed to choose from what she had left. It was Edith's turn to take center stage.

"Come, the night waits for no man!" Mrs. Victoria was a great fan of melodramatic romance novels, and unfortunately the dialogue had begun to rub off on her. Mr. Victoria, a tall man with a stern face but soft eyes, shook his head with a tolerant smile as he moved to take his greatcoat from the butler. Mr. Victoria was a retired detective turned high-rise attorney, and through his experience with law enforcement protocol was able to easily rid his clients of pesky lawsuits and false suits. Mr. Victoria never charged more than his fair share, much to his wife's discontent, and was in turn held in high regards by his clients. It helped that these clients were well-respected members of the aristocracy.

"Shall we?" Mr. Victoria asked, sweeping the long coat over his superfine waistcoat. Mrs. Victoria dutifully took his arm with a happy hum.

After she wrapped her thin silver shawl over her shoulders and gave Edith a well-deserved deck on the head, Seras followed her parents out of the entrance hall, down the front steps, and in to the awaiting carriage.

Seras had a vague sympathy for sardines during those carriage rides, but always enjoyed the conversation and the atmosphere of them. The carriage was reserved specifically for Mr. Victoria's work and special occasions. She couldn't help but feel like a princess.

The trip to Woburn Abbey thankfully took no longer than two hours, a fact both Seras and Edith were thankful for when their mother began to remind them of their etiquette and dancing do's and don'ts. The topic was cut short when the party was five minutes away from the abbey and Mrs. Victoria found a most distressingly misplaced stitch on Mr. Victoria's waistcoat.

"Seras, you'll never guess what Caroline told me the other day at tea." Edith took advantage of the opportunity and giggled behind her fan. Seras rolled her eyes.

"I can only imagine what she could've possibly mislead you towards this time!" Caroline Binsworth was one of Edith's treasured gentle-born friends who treasured Edith like a housemaid. However while Caroline was rather plain, Edith was a bird of prey among pigeons and naturally attracted some of the most handsome young men in the room. Caroline was intelligent enough to use such a friend to her advantage.

"No, listen! Caroline said that the Duke invited a high-ranking Wallachian nobleman and he accepted the invitation!" Edith had a familiar look on her face. Seras could see where this was going. "I'm so excited to see him! Have you ever seen anyone from Eastern Europe? How romantic it must-"

"What do you mean by 'see?' Since you're so excited, why merely settle with sight? Why don't you," Seras paused for a dramatic effect and leaned in close, her blue eyes wide, "_introduce yourself_?"

"Seras!" Edith hissed, snapping her fan none-too-gently against her sister' wrist as Seras burst into laughter.

"Edith!" Mrs. Victoria snapped to attention at the sight of unladylike behavior. Apparently the seam situation had been resolved.

"Mother!" Edith whined as they approached the manicured grounds of the manor.

"I'll have none of that tonight, thank you very much! You girls were not raised to be girls, but ladies, and I'll take nothing less than such! There are a number of esteemed individuals who shall be in attendance tonight, and I expect both of you to make the most of such an opportunity." She cast a non-too-discreet glance at Edith. Seras wasn't sure whether to be insulted or relieved.

"Seras, after mass last Sunday Mr. Thornsbury specifically inquired if _you_ would be attending this ball." Mrs. Victoria suddenly diverted the conversation from Edith to Seras, one sister's shoulders relaxing and the other's tensing. Seras couldn't hide her frown at the blatant hint.

Mr. Thornsbury was one of her father's associates and represented another law firm on the other side of London. He had long been one of her most faithful suitors, and never seemed to be off put by any cancelled plans or returned bouquets. It wasn't that he was particularly mean or ugly, or that he smelled or had killed someone. Mr. Thornsbury was, however, only ten years younger than her father and a good twenty five years her senior. He was only a little taller than her, quite a bit rounder, and his breath always smelled like peanuts.

"Mr. Thornsbury is a highly respected attorney. He does you a great honor; an honor to which I have yet to see you deserve." Mrs. Victoria growled as the carriage halted under the canopied entrance of the sterling white mansion. Before Seras had a chance to retort the door was opened and her father was stepping down to help her mother out.

Seras didn't resent Mr. Thornsbury. He was actually a very kind man with a good sense of humor, and despite their age difference they always managed to have some sort of interesting conversation. No, Seras disliked what Mr. Thornsbury represented: settling.

By marrying Mr. Thornsbury, Seras would be settling for a marriage without passion, without undying love. Oh yes, they always said that love would come later, but how could they really be sure – and who were _they_ to being with, anyway? Besides, Seras doubted Mr. Thornsbury would approve of her hobbies and aspirations. She'd have no choice but to give them up.

"I will find this prince by the end of the night, Seras." Edith swore once the carriage had disappeared in to the night and they were following their parents into the mansion.

"How are you so sure he's a prince?" Seras humored her as they and their mother split from their father to enter the marbled ladies' dressing room. While the family was fashionably late to the ball and were the only guests present in the chamber, the residing fragrance of expensive perfume still hung in the air.

"Oh Seras, don't you read the print? Wallachia is losing its standing and will soon be swallowed up by that kingdom next to it!"

"…you mean Moldavia?"

"Sure, sure, Moldavia. The whole situation's an absolute mess; the only ones who could ever afford to leave _have_ to be royalty." Edith sighed as a maid whiskered their shawls away into the cloak room. She and Seras left the dressing room for the long hall to wait for their father. The ladies took a seat on a stiff Versailles settee outside the gentlemen's apartments.

"How do you know you won't end up meeting a king instead?" Seras asked in a low tone, afraid one of the passerby would hear. The ballroom, dining room, and refreshment room were all located at the very end of the hallway, and once the sisters had left the dressing room they had seen many more people.

"Then I'd say I'd like to be queen!" Edith retorted without even bothering to try to be inconspicuous. A few passing couples cast a curious glance in their direction, and Seras couldn't hold down her blush.

"Edith!" Seras scolded. Edith rolled her eyes and looked away, only to immediately stand and wave at someone down the hall.

"Oh, there's Caroline!" Edith sing-songed, picking up her skirts to shuffle toward the leader of a well-dressed group of young people. "Caroline, how good it is to see you…!" Her bubbly voice faded as she neared the group and was engulfed by it.

And just like that, Seras found herself sitting alone on the settee outside the gentlemen's apartments.

* * *

The ball was quite a success.

The refreshments were deemed delicious, the music of the highest caliber, and the atmosphere as joyful as could possibly be. From what Seras could see, Edith was having the time of her life! Her card had been quickly filled with the names of up-and-coming young gentlemen and despite none being her mysterious Wallachian prince, her smile never faded and her eyes never lost their sparkle.

Seras grinned from where she sat next to her mother on the side of the ballroom, her gaze following her sister. Her younger sister's smile was so infectious, and she truly seemed to be enjoying herself! And it was well that she should be. She had the charm, grace, beauty, and personality to be the belle of the ball. Seras felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly brushed it aside. She was happy for her sister, and such trivial things like collecting suitors had never interested her.

Besides, it wasn't as if she had been sitting the entire night.

Seras had danced the first dance with none other than Mr. Thornsbury, and her father had claimed the second. She was lucky enough to have the third with her long lost childhood friend, Pip Bernadotte, and then with one of his "business associates." No matter what Pip thought of her, Seras wasn't stupid. She knew that Pip had gotten in to some seedy black market deals almost as soon as he had graduated from Oxford, although when she had accidentally learned of the fact she hadn't been much too surprised. Why would a Frenchman spend so much time in England otherwise?

Aside from the fact, it had still been lovely to see him and Seras had missed him very much. But then his associate had needed him, and after giving her a sheepish smile he let himself be pulled away. So now she was sitting next to her mother, not quite sure what to do next.

She was kind of… getting bored.

But it didn't seem like she would have that luxury for long.

Seras had only just turned to admire the craftsmanship of one of the paintings on the wall behind her when she felt _it_. It wasn't so much a presence than a feeling, a subconscious sixth sense's goose bump-inducing warning of danger. She felt a shadow cast over her, and her shoulders involuntarily tensed under its dark caress. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips, like wood over sandpaper.

It took so much to simply turn around. There was an absurd fear that suddenly struck her, and begged her to flee before it was too late. But that would've been rude, and this was an aristocrat's ball. There was nothing to fear here.

And standing before her was nothing to fear. If anything, it was something to giggle about on the carriage ride home. A tall, broad-shouldered man with glimmering lengths of black hair and lily white skin was bent at the waist with her mother's hand in his palm. Though he was impeccably dressed in a glossy superfine-dress coat, the impressive golden strings of rubies that surrounded his white necktie hinted at gaudiness. In fact there was something about this man, from the oversized ruby thumb ring on top of his white kid gloves to the onyx walking stick crowned with a gold wolf's head, that was ominous.

"It is a pleasure." His English was flavored with a foreign accent. Seras' eyes widened. Perhaps this was Edith's prince?

And then the floor manager* was standing in front of her, and she could feel her mother and the supposed prince's eyes on her.

"Miss Victoria, may I introduce the fifth Count Dracul of Wallachia?" The floor manager gestured to her, and then to the Count. Seras was struck dumb; for once, Edith had been right!

The Count dipped at the waist and extended his hand, peering up at her through long, glossy dark hair. Seras noticed that he hid his eyes behind a pair of darkened lenses. She thought it was rather odd for an evening ball, but perhaps he had a medical condition that prescribed for it. If not… well, he was foreign nobility, so such an offense could be easily brushed away. His status explained his less than modest embellishments as well.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Victoria." The Count said as the floor manager took his leave, satisfied that the exchange was perfectly polite. Seras shivered at the way the Count said her name but forced a shaky smile.

"It is a greater pleasure to meet you, My Lord." Seras replied, placing her hand lightly in his. His smile did not fade as he bent over it.

Instead of kissing the top of the back of her hand as custom dictated, he kissed the back of her wrist. Seras did not allow her smile to falter as he did so, but then – _did he just sniff her?_

No, the word "sniff" didn't do justice. _Inhale_ better defined it. Seras only just resisted the urge to backhand him because he was a count and – although she would never admit it out loud – she might've just felt _something_ shoot through her at his kiss.

No one else had seemed to notice the nobleman's less than savory greeting. Her mother was in a different world full of fantastical royal weddings, and the people milling around them only spared a curious glance every once in a while.

But Seras knew, and the smile that marred his face when he finally looked up told her that he knew she knew. What a creep.

"Mrs. Victoria," Count Dracul only let go of Seras' hand once he rose from his bow, much to her discomfort. But it wasn't as if Seras' mother had really cared to notice. "Might I ask your permission for the honor of your daughter's next dance?"

Seras felt a pang of pity for the Count now. Edith was engaged for all of the remaining dances and because she was off somewhere on the dance floor, he would have to be let down by her mother! What a dreadful way to be rejected, especially in a foreign land's court. But then this weirdo had just smelled her wrist, so she was kind of okay with throwing him at Edith. She'd wanted him in the first place, not Seras.

Mrs. Victoria smiled brilliantly at the Count, and then at Seras. Seras felt something drop in the pit of her stomach. Oh no, he wasn't asking for _her_, was he?

"You needn't have asked, My Lord." There was still a slight chance that they were talking about Edith…

The dreadful man smiled his awful smile again. It was dark and deep, and only grew more terrible when he turned to face Seras. His gaze never left hers even as he dipped into a bow at the waist. She absolutely hated the fact that she couldn't see his eyes. His darkened lenses left too many things to the imagination, and hers was too active for her own good.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Victoria?" His etiquette was better than some of the born and bred English in the room. With a graceful flick of the wrist he took hold of her hand once more, never mind that she hadn't accepted yet.

She would, and they both knew it.

"The pleasure is mine, My Lord." Seras forced another uneasy smile on her face and reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled toward the dance floor, leaving her swooning mother behind.

A slow, dreamy waltz had just begun, and Seras thought it suited her situation quite well. Regardless of how intimidating and quietly terrifying this man was, he was undoubtedly the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. Michelangelo had to have used him as a muse.

But despite the Count's overbearing beauty, there was still something sinister to him.

They floated across the dance floor to the beat of the music, and Seras inwardly thanked God that she was a talented dancer. The Count was graced in the art and elegantly led them around the floor, oftentimes catching the admiring eye of a neighboring couple. But when they were almost half way into the dance and had yet to speak a word to each other, Seras grew anxious.

That stupid smile had never left his face though, so she'd take it as a sign of amusement, and amusement was better than nothing. On that note Seras decided to take initiative. Any conversation would prove to be less awkward than this silence.

"If I may dare to ask," Seras began, trying not to flinch when she felt the full brunt of his attention, "what inspired My Lord to make my acquaintance?" She really was curious why he asked _her_, of all the ladies at the ball, to dance.

The Count laughed, and Seras tensed. His smile matched his laugh.

"That old Duke was bothered that I hadn't danced yet this evening." The Count pulled Seras quite a bit too close to be proper before whispering to her as if it were some grave secret. Seras violently tried to restrain her blush – their faces were almost touching!

"So he _recommended_ I danced with one of the wallflowers." She didn't miss the sardonic smile, and flushed with indignation. "Of course I was afraid that dancing with a wallflower would equate to dancing with someone…less than applicable."

With an offended snort she tried to pull away, but gasped when she felt the hand on the side of her waist tighten to the point of pain. She glared, and he only smiled in return. He loosened his grip only when she relented.

"So he and I scoured the room for a partner. He pointed out you, the daughter of his most trusted attorney. And I must say, my dear," His lips were scandalously close to her ear, "you are quite applicable."

Seras' eyes widened. At that moment, with his strong hold on her hip, his cool breath on her cheek, the smooth darkness of his voice, how close they stood – it was all too much. She felt her knees shake slightly, and the Count tighten his hold to support her. When had he become so seductive? When had he changed from a crude stranger to an amorous enigma?

Suddenly Seras had nothing to say, and they simply drifted through the waltz. His hold on her waist shifted, and the spell was broken. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Who did this man think he was? Titled or not, she was a respectable lady and did not deserve such treatment! Did he want to destroy her reputation and her family's prospects?

"How _dare_ you!" She hissed, drawing her face closer to his. His smile never faltered. Her grip on his hand tightened, and to her irritation his did as well.

"I am no questionable lady, sir, and I will not allow any mistreatment regardless of your status!" And what a breach of status it was. She should've stopped talking a long time ago, but something told her that this man wouldn't tattle on her; if anything he seemed to enjoy her spite.

"I never questioned your reputation, Miss." His tone was oh so smug. "I merely stated that I found you an applicable dance partner." Seras wondered if the tips of her ears were red from anger or embarrassment.

"It was the implication then!"

"And what, pray tell, did you imagine I implied?" Their faces were once again so scandalously close.

Seras had a sudden heightened awareness of the strong, almost possessive grip of his hand on her lower back and the fact that her hand had been completely enveloped in his. She dared to glance around the room and much to her relief found that they had swayed to the edge of the floor, away from the crowd and out of the spotlight.

Of course, that didn't mean that there wasn't a possibility of someone watching them.

She pulled away, blushing like mad, and risked a glance at his face. Her breath caught in her throat.

All traces of playfulness had been swallowed up by a fierce glare, and any softness in his features had hardened to steel. His glower was thankfully not directed toward her but something past her head. His grip seemed to unconsciously tighten. Seras felt him slowly pull her closer to his chest, as if getting ready to spirit her away at a moment's notice.

…she really had to stop reading her mother's romance novels.

"My Lord?" She didn't bother to hide the irritation and confusion in her tone. His eyes darted back to her, but he didn't lessen his hold in the slightest.

"I thank you for the most wonderful dance, Miss Victoria." He was smiling that devious smile again, but his eyes were hard and cold. The song ended, and he let go of her waist but kept a tight hold on her hand. He lead her like a lamb off the dance floor and weaved through throngs of diamond-strung ladies and clouds of expensive perfume until her mother and father came in to sight. Before Seras could approach them, the Count _finally_ let go of her hand but then quickly backpedalled to hover behind her.

"I look forward to making your acquaintance in the very near future_, Miss Victoria_." His lips grazed the shell of her ear before she spun around, only to find that he had already disappeared into the large crows behind her. Seras narrowed her eyes. How strange. He certainly was a fast walker.

Seras took a deep breath and stood a little straighter as she walked to rejoin her parents. It was as if a cloud had lifted from over her head and she could finally breathe easy again.

"Oh, here she is!" Her mother was waving her over almost as soon as she caught sight of Seras to a small group. Her mother and father seemed to be speaking with quite peculiar people.

"Sir Hellsing, may I introduce you to my daughter, Seras Victoria?" A tall, intimidating towhead woman (_in a pantsuit, of all things!_) regarded her with polite disinterest as she took a puff from an expensive cigar – a cigar that should've been confiscated by the floor manager, but hadn't been. But she was a noble, and a high-ranking one at that. She could wear and do whatever she very well wanted to.

"Seras, may I introduce Sir Hellsing?" Mr. Victoria introduced them with a calm attorney smile. Seras stared at the woman, a little dumbstruck, before leaping in to action.

"I-it's an honor to meet you, Sir Hellsing!" And why a woman was being addressed as "sir" Seras didn't know, but knew better than to ask. The woman took another puff of her cigar before handing it to what looked like some sort of personal butler. To Seras' surprise, Sir Hellsing looked only a few year older than her.

"Likewise. And this," Sir Hellsing replied briskly, gesturing toward the butler, "is my retainer, Walter." The older man smiled at Seras and gave a little bow. When it was clear that Sir Hellsing wasn't going to say anything else, he quickly stepped forward to gesture toward her father.

"Your father recently defended our organization against fraudulent suits. He's a very talented man." Walter said, effectively explaining what Seras needed to know so Sir Hellsing wouldn't have to.

"You're too kind, sir." Mr. Victoria gave a good-natured chuckle. There was a slight lapse in the conversation.

"Your mother mentioned you met the Count?" Sir Hellsing asked, suddenly focusing her total attention on Seras. Seras felt like she was under a microscope; the aristocrat seemed to be searching her for something, but kept on coming up with a blank.

"Yes, I had the last dance with him." Seras replied, not sure what Sir Hellsing was leading up to. Usually when ladies asked each other these types of questions they were attempting to establish who they'd have to be competing against for a man's affections, but Seras highly doubted Sir Integra was interested in such things.

"Did you happen to see which direction he took afterward?" Seras felt like she was being interrogated. What did this noble want with the Count, anyway? From the looks she and Walter were giving her, you would think that the Count had killed someone! Creep or not, Seras would feel bad for him if she set these two on his tail.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't." Seras answered, fighting to keep Sir Hellsing's stare. The aristocrat's eyes were icy blue behind clear glasses that only magnified their depths. It made Seras feel like Sir Hellsing could see right through her lie. Oh god, she hoped not. She never wanted to get on the bad side of anyone like Sir Hellsing.

The woman exchanged a glance with her retainer before nodding.

"No matter." She said evenly, though even Seras could see that it did matter. The noble took another puff of her cigar before resting it in Walter's waiting hand.

"It was pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Victoria, Mrs. Victoria. I'll have Walter call your office should we have use of your services again." Sir Hellsing addressed them curtly with a stiff smile. She turned back to Seras once again. "And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Victoria."

Seras curtsied. "The pleasure was mine, Sir Hellsing." Seras wasn't sure if she would take offense to "m'day."

"Thank you Sir Hellsing, Walter. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ball." Mr. Victoria said as he shook Sir Hellsing's and then Walter's hand, handling the goodbyes for his family as they curtsied.

"I wish you the same." Sir Hellsing replied before she and Walter disappeared into the crowd, much like the Count had done not so long ago.

Unlike the Count, Seras was able to watch them go.

* * *

****Explanations**

- The _ton_ is a term commonly used to refer to Britain's high society during the Georgian and Victorian eras.

- From highest ranking to lowest ranking, the social ladder was as follows: Monarch, Royalty, Aristocracy, Gentry, Middle Class, Artisans and Trades people, Servants, Laboring Poor, and Paupers.

- At Victorian balls, ladies were given dance cards to fill with the names of gentlemen who they would dance a certain song with. The gentleman always had to make quite a show of asking the lady to dance, but if their introduction was proper the lady could never refuse no matter what the reason.

- If a man wanted to dance with a lady he was a stranger to and had no mutual acquaintances to make introductions, he asked the floor manager to introduce him. If the lady was still young, he had to ask her chaperone for permission before asking the lady to dance.

I'm starting college in the next few years, and have unfortunately gotten pretty lax when it comes to writing. So in an effort to improve**, I'm going to try to update this story every Monday night!**

That way I'll get used to writing large amounts under deadlines again, and my papers won't totally suck!

Of course, I can't guarantee that every chapter is going to be 5500+ words like this one – that's still a little much for me. I wrote this first chapter over the span of a month, but hopefully by the end of this story I'll be at that level.

**Reviews are loved and inspire me to write faster! I hope you've enjoyed!**

- Della


	2. II

Disclaimer: Well, I don't own _Hellsing_. If I did I probably wouldn't be writing fan fiction for it.

* * *

**II.**

Seras had decided to take to her bedroom for the remainder of the morning.

The family had arrived home from the Duke's ball in the wee hours of the morning. Under such circumstances they all took the liberty of sleeping in well past nine-thirty, the time of morning that - according to Mrs. Victoria - all successful people should be up and about by.

By that logic, Edith's suitors must have been very successful people indeed. When the family passed the foyer for the dining room for breakfast, it was found that no less than five bouquets had already been delivered by nine o'clock in the morning. Four more were dropped off within the hour.

To put it lightly, Mrs. Victoria had practically cried when she saw the family names of the boys who signed the cards. Seras hadn't really minded that; there was a smug enjoyment that came with watching your younger sibling go through the same tortures you did. And poor Edith, who hadn't even gotten to see her bouquets let alone breakfast yet, was shrieked at by their mother to write "heartfelt" thank you notes to each gentleman "_right this minute_!" Seras had laughed, and Edith had stuck her tongue out at her sister as they passed each other on the staircase.

There hadn't been any addressed to Seras, not even from Mr. Thornsbury. She easily brushed off the tinge of jealousy she felt; it was Edith's turn to shine.

Seras had been well in to an especially delicious breakfast with her parents when one of the house maids, Nora, entered the floral-wallpapered dining room.

"Something for Miss Seras, ma'am." How strange. Usually the meal time wasn't allowed to be disrupted with deliveries. The middle-aged lady was cradling something small and delicate, wrapped in white silk and fastened by an opulent mother-of-pearl brooch.

Seras' eyes widened when the maid handed her the bundle. The brooch was absolutely exquisite and unquestionably worth more than any other jewelry piece she owned. The craftsmanship was superb and had been undoubtedly labored over by some dedicated, foreign artisan. The breakfast table was silent as she gently unclasped the brooch from the silk and unveiled what lay beneath.

The discovery was surprisingly anticlimactic, but totally romantic.

In the package lay a single trimmed red rose at the peak of bloom, its glossy red petals softer than the silk it was presented in. Seras couldn't help but smile and blush.

"Is there a note or a name?" Mr. Victoria was deceptively calm as he eyed the pearl brooch with skepticism.

"No, not that I can see…" Seras gently lifted the flower from its folds, delicately tracing her fingers over the petals. She couldn't help it; she was touched by the gesture. It was so traditionally romantic. She smiled to herself and lifted it to her face, enjoying its fragrance.

Just as she was about to give it to the maid to put in water, a certain sparkle from inside the rose caught her eye. Her parents watched in searching silence as she dipped her fingers into the petals and pulled out a shining ruby crystal hanging on a sterling silver chain. There was a pregnant pause before-

"_Is that a necklace?"_

"_Seras,_ **is there a name**?"

After further investigation and interrogation of the servant who had answered the door it was found that no note had been sent, but that a well-dressed stranger with an accent and peculiar walking stick had delivered the gift.

At that point Mrs. Victoria hadn't known what to do: gloat, swoon, cry, die? Mr. Victoria simply returned to his breakfast with the thoughtful, solemn expression only a father can possess. When she found out after she finished her thank you notes, Edith had demanded to see the necklace and then squealed in excitement. And Seras?

Well, she wasn't quite sure what to think.

For one thing, there was always a possibility that it hadn't been Count Dracul. Many Englishmen hired foreigners as domestic servants. But then how many domestic servants had Eastern European accents and expensive walking sticks…? Seras groaned. Plenty! There had to be plenty!

And it wasn't as if he had especially enjoyed her company last night, right? From _sniffing her_, to making possibly-inappropriate comments, glowering at someone in the middle of their dance, and then not even bothering to escort her back to her family, he hadn't given her the proper civilities a lady deserved. However he was a foreigner, so perhaps it was just a cultural difference?

Yes, because smelling your partner before your dance was so internationally acceptable…

Seras groaned.

She didn't know what to think about the whole ordeal. Yes, he could've possibly scandalized her, but to her confusion a part of her really wouldn't have minded. _A part of her wished he had. _Because regardless of his peculiarities, she was undoubtedly attracted to him. With his long black, shining hair and smooth, soft lips...

Seras blushed and buried her flushed face in her hands. If she continued to think of him in such a way she'd die of embarrassment the next time they met! And Seras presumed they would be meeting again very soon. If the Count had really taken the time to hand-deliver her flower then he was certainly interested in at least seeing her again.

And if she dared allow her imagination to wander, she supposed that he was interested in a little bit more, too.

Seras sat up from her bed, glancing at the opulent necklace resting on top of her jewelry box. It looked out of place on the simple, varnished wood box. She sighed and crossed the room to lay the crystal between her fingers. Even if the Count was strange, the she had appreciated the thought... and his good taste in jewelry. She slipped the necklace on and turned to her mirror, smiling at the glimmer of the crystal in sunlight.

Who ever said blondes couldn't pull off red?

Seras cringed when she heard a rather loud argument from downstairs, followed by footsteps pounding up and down the hall. In one morning the Victoria household had gone from serene to overzealous. She knew her father had retired to his study not too long ago to attend to some business matters from the firm, so Seras could only assume the argument had been between her mother and Edith. She _thought_ she had heard the word "rouge" yelled once or twice.

Nevertheless, Seras decided that she had mulled over this morning's events long enough. She had work to do. So with her cotton sunbonnet in hand, Seras stuck her head out her bedroom door when she heard a light pair of feet pitter-patter by.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Seras called. Elizabeth was Seras' favorite servant. Blessed with a wicked sense of humor and the ability to hold her tongue when it came to the sisters' misadventures, at the age of thirty-five, Elizabeth had earned her slot in the Victoria household.

"Yes, Miss Seras?" Of course they were still separated by rank, and their friendship would never progress outside of witty conversation and polite smiles. It was simply not allowed.

"Would you be so kind as to arrange a carriage to the library?"

"Of course, Miss. I will alert the driver."

"Thank you." She said as she tied the silky ribbons of her bonnet into a neat bow. Seras had just made her way to the staircase when Edith seemingly appeared out of nowhere, curls set and elegant pastel green bonnet tied no less.

"Oh, where are you off to?" Edith asked, eyeing Seras' bonnet and bustled silvery gray gown with a sly smile. She reached out and tugged on the crystal necklace playfully. "Going out to find and steal my prince away, are you?"

Seras scoffed as she teasingly pushed Edith out of the way. "I think not!" Edith followed on her heels down the mahogany staircase.

"Well, if not to track down your royal suitor," Seras rolled her eyes as she pulled on her gloves, "where are you going?"

"I'm to spend the afternoon at the library."

"Again with those dusty books?" Edith clucked her tongue and shook her head, leftover curls from the night before falling into her face. "If you're so interested in reading, why not join the Ladies' Book Club? Why spend so much time alone trying for something that won't-" Edith quickly bit her tongue. Seras stared at her sister in slight shock. Never had Edith gotten so close to belittling her dream; Edith, of all people, knew how important it was to her.

The former atmpspher was shattered and replaced by a cooler, tenser one. All was silent in the reception hall except for the steady counting of the grandfather clock.

"I apologize, Seras." Edith finally said, diverting her gaze from her sister. But she didn't retract her almost admittance.

"You're forgiven." Edith was still her sister. In her heart, she hadn't meant anything by it… right?

There was another pause before:

"So, the library then?"

"Yes."

Edith shuffled her feet before finally looking at Seras again. "Well, mother forgot to bring some flowers to Father the other day at mass, so she gifted me with the oh so exciting task. Perhaps after I deliver them, I could join you?" It was Edith's way of reconciling. Seras, though still a bit stung, nodded. He really had to learn not to be so sensitive.

"Yes, I'd like that." She said as she stepped out of the front door, closing it firmly behind her.

Regardless of the opinions Edith or anyone else held, Seras had work to do.

* * *

Edith's shoulders sagged once Seras closed the front door. She hadn't meant to insult or criticize her sister's aspirations. It had been an innocent slip, really!

But what an unfortunate slip it had been. She was already so sensitive about it after mother took it upon herself to discourage Seras from it when she first debuted. Discourage was, of course, a euphemism for the collage of insults, insinuations, guilt, and accusations Seras was made to suffer through all those years. Now that Edith was the newest and prettiest lady-of-age in the family, their mother had focused her attention less on Seras. There was finally a small opening for her to pursue it again, albeit quietly.

Edith wanted to smack her head against the wall. What a blow it must have been to be discouraged by your own sister! How terrible it must have felt! But in her defense, it wasn't Edith's fault that Seras aspired to be a policewoman, of all things.

When Seras had announced her chosen profession at the age of fourteen, Edith remembered Mr. Victoria only smiling and giving her his blessing in "whichever path she chose to pursue." She remembered their mother's strained laugh and declaration of how silly young ladies' imaginations were. Only it wasn't her imagination, and Seras' determination only grew stronger until she turned seventeen.

Edith should've been happy that Seras was finally pursuing her dream once again. It meant that her sister had finally found herself, and Edith might've well spit in her sister's face when she practically said that nothing would come of it.

Edith sighed as she slid her own gloves on.

Well… she was right. Nothing would be coming of it. A female detective? Who had ever heard of such nonsense? Besides, it_ was_ time that Seras learned to face to reality and put such petty things behind her; she hadn't found a husband in two seasons, and if she didn't find one this season she would be deemed a failure. There was no bigger disgrace for a lady, and their family could not afford anything of the kind.

Thankfully though it seemed that Seras had found something with that Wallachian noble of all people. Come to think of it, hadn't she been wearing the crystal he supposedly gave to her?

Edith gathered the flowers to her bosom with a sharp frown, forgetting to thank Nora for holding the door open for her as she left the household. Edith hadn't remembered the necklace until after the fact, so hopefully it wasn't too noticeable. During the Season it was not in good taste to wear jeweled before evening time, yet Seras just had to go and…

How awful it was that she, the younger sister, better understood civilities than the elder.

And to wear a piece of jewelry that was just given to you by a _potential_ suitor! It was too forward! What was Seras thinking? Edith was past the envy that had sprung at the news that her sister had been _the only lady at the ball _that her mysterious prince had danced with. It wouldn't even matter if Seras had managed to grab the Count as a suitor, because at this rate she was going to shame herself if she disregarded anymore social graces!

Edith couldn't stop grumbling to herself all the two blocks to the church. Stupid Seras, going around and almost tarnishing their reputations. The Victorias were already Catholic; they already had one strike against them and didn't need any more.

St. Peter the Apostle Church wasn't beloved to most of London, but as a Catholic church everyone hadn't expected anything better. The fact that it incorporated gothic French architecture to its exterior and an Irish priest to its interior didn't help matters either, but for whatever reason the parish had been left alone, even when the occasional bigoted anti-Catholic riot sprang up.

The church seemed to be empty at first glance, which didn't bother Edith in the slightest. The faster she could get to Seras to apologize, the better. But then after a second look, Edith spotted her priest in one of the front most pews engaged in a very lively conversation with a very strange woman. She blanched and took a step back towards the door. Perhaps Father was having an affair with the woman and she had inadvertently walked in on a lovers' spat? Oh, how embarrassing!

But it was better to make her presence known now than later, lest she be accused of eavesdropping. That was just shameful.

But Father Anderson nor the woman he was yelled – er, _debating_ with seemed to notice her presence. Tid-bits of their conversation, which had once been echoes, began to ring clearer with each step closer.

"-don't believe in coincidences, especially when he's involved."

"Ye heathens have always been so quick to judge and today 'tis no exception! Have ye even any evidence before ye gather torches?"

"Numbers don't lie, and autopsies never do. Facts are facts whether you choose to admit them or not, Judas Priest." Edith blinked at the insult. How rude, especially in a church of all places.

It didn't quite seem the type of conversation a member of the clergy should be engaging in. And since when had Father Anderson become so aggressive and – not to mention – frightening? Edith felt extremely uncomfortable. This conversation was most definitely not meant for her ears, and she really wished that they would notice her already. She stood a few pews back and tried to clear her throat as lady-like as possible, but to no avail.

"Ye still don't know for certain whether the man is the cause! Ye cannot damn a man because ye want to!"

"Oh, for Christ'ssake!" The tall, towheaded woman that Father Anderson was arguing with suddenly leapt from her seat, arms raised in extreme exasperation. "When a damn _Count of Wallachia_ named _Vlad,_ of all things, comes to London and we see such a rise in numbers what other logical reason is there? _He's back_, damn you!"

Edith couldn't hold back her gasp. They were talking about the Count! Had he committed a crime? Had he hurt someone? What were they talking about?

Father Anderson jumped from his seat as well. "Never use such obscenities in the place of God, ye filthy Protestant whore!" He literally _bellowed _as he raised his fist. Edith's breath caught in her throat. She was not about to give witness to her priest striking a woman!

"Father Anderson!" Edith squeaked, holding the flowers out in front of her in a meager attempt to create a barrier. Both people, including the startling woman in the pantsuit, jumped to face her. She cringed as she felt the remnants of their anger misdirected toward her.

However, at the realization that it was one of his faithful parishioners, Father Anderson quickly dropped his hand and exited the finely carved pew to stand in the aisle in front of Edith.

"Ah Miz Victoria, I apologize for the display… such a bad temper, right lass?" He said, clasping his hands together. Edith couldn't help how tightly he held them together. His knuckles were turning white. "So what do I owe the pleasure?"

Edith locked her elbows and managed to hold the flowers out a bit further. "My mother apologizes for failing to deliver these last Sunday." She said, trying to hide the quaver from her voice. The other woman regarded her with cold, analytical eyes.

Father Anderson nodded. "O'course, I thank ye." The flowers exchanged hands, and suddenly they were standing there in silence.

"Well, I… shall see you at mass, Father." Edith said with a forced, anxious smile and a small curtsy. She turned and curtsied to the woman as well, because God only knew what she would do if Edith snubbed her. It was when Edith had turned, gotten halfway down the aisle, and was close enough to the door to believe she was free that the woman finally addressed her.

"Miss Victoria," The woman's voice was powerful and echoed in the church. Edith stopped. "Do you happen to have any relation to a Miss Seras Victoria?" Edith stiffened. How did this woman know her sister? It was clear that their previous conversation had undoubtedly been about the Count.

"Yes, she is my sister." Edith turned to face them, but didn't cross the gap between them. The woman took care of that for her. Her footsteps were heavy and masculine.

"And what is her relation to the Count?" The woman stood facing her with a fierce frown and harsh body language. Edith fidgeted.

"She-she… nothing's been made official, but he sent her jewelry this morning…" Edith said warily. The woman's eyes widened, displaying a short lapse in façade.

"But…" The woman murmured to herself, lost in thought. Edith stared at her. Father Anderson suddenly appeared behind the woman, flowers still in hand.

"This is Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingate Hellsing, Miss Victoria. She's a Protestant." He chewed on the word "protestant" like it was some sort of rubber, disgusting and oh so hard to pull out of your teeth. His face was so restrained, and his expression was lost somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

"It's nice to meet you, My Lady."

"You may address me as Sir." Edith blinked and nodded. Well, that had been to the point.

"Miss Victoria, it would do your sister well to be on her guard and reject the Count's advances for her own safety. We expect him to be involved with unseemly activities."

Edith was silent.

"And I would also advise her not to allow him knowledge of her newfound enlightenment. Do _not_ put your trust in him." Integra's voice was unwavering, totally convinced of her opinion. Edith was afraid to ask why. "And if you should find yourself in any particular situations with him that may need to involve… a third party, you may find access to myself and my organization at this address." Sir Hellsing had pulled a pencil out of one of her trouser pockets and grabbed a hymnal out of one of the pews. With blatant disregard, Sir Hellsing quickly tore the forward out of it, and Edith didn't miss that faint smirk that appeared when a flicker – ahem, tremor - of irritation appeared on Father Anderson's face.

"'tis not to scare you. 'tis better to be safe than sorry." Father Anderson cut in, effectively ruining the dramatic silence that had dominated after Sir Hellsing's speech and spectacle.

Sir Hellsing elegantly sneered (Edith hadn't known such was possible) in response. The tension was practically crakling between them, and Edith decided that it was probably a good time to take her leave. So she took a step back, quickly said her goodbyes, and hustled out of the church only to hear their argument return full-throttle as she opened the ornate church doors.

"_Do you dare still doubt me_, you blasphemous-"

Edith was only too thankful to have torn herself from the conversation when she had.

But Edith couldn't decide whether to forget what had happened, or to commit it to memory. She wasn't yet sure which action would come back to bite her.

She hurried down the long stone staircase, feeling the gargoyles' stare on her back and Sir Hellsing's note weighing heavy in her hand.

* * *

The library seemed to have gotten dustier in her absence. But then it wasn't as if Seras had any part in its maintenance, so it really wasn't her place to stay; but so had come here so often during the winter months, how could she not?

Seras waved to the friendly librarian as she padded across the oiled wood floors, heading straight toward her favorite old reading nook in the left back corner. Her eyes lit up when she saw the practical lacquered table with its comfortable cushioned chairs and cracked reading lamp peeking from behind tall bookcases and a wooden cart of uncategorized literature.

Since the beginning of the Season this year Seras had had virtually no leisure time, and thus no time for library excursions. Mornings were usually spent riding down Rotten Row* with Edith and her too-well-off friends, afternoons were put aside for calling on friends and important acquaintances, and after dinner hours were of course reserved for the few _ton _events the Victorias were invited to. There had been an increase of invitations ever since Edith's debut at Court, surprise surprise, and the family had been busy ever since.

Well, it hadn't exactly been much of a surprise, but you were supposed to act like it was.

Seras took several minutes to comb over the dusty aisles for the books she had last been working over before settling down at her table, turning on the cracked reading lamp with a cheerful click. She was going to apply to the Metropolitan Police and she was going to pass their exam if it was the last thing she did. Now, if only Alexander Bain had worded his text without creating a new term ever other line…

_It was back._

Her body sensed it before her mind. Suddenly her pulse had picked up, she was sitting ramrod straight, and could not move. If perhaps they stayed still, her body reasoned, then perhaps it would go away. Perhaps it would forget and move on. But her mind knew better. Her mind understood that the game had only just begun.

Slowly, Seras turned in her chair and looked up, her face caressed by shadow.

"What a surprise, Miss Victoria." The Count had arrived, and he sounded everything but surprised.

* * *

Hi guys, hope you enjoyed!

So, I have some good news and bad news…

The bad news is that I highly underestimated my workload, and I'm not as happy with this chapter as I wanted to be - as you can see from the short length. So in regard to that, **I've decided to update this story every other Monday instead of every Monday.** Now the good news is that by doing so I'll be able to produce longer, higher-quality chapters for you guys! Whoot whoot!

(And yes, I promise chapter three with have some more Alucard x Seras time for you all.)

A HUUGGEE hank you to all the kind people who reviewed! I can't tell you how excited I am to get a new review; I know it's really lame, but I seriously check to see if I have a new one every time I log on here… which is often. But I also think that we can do better! I had over 300 views for the story and only 8 reviews? C'mon guys! :P

Thanks for bearing with me!

- Della


	3. III

**III.**

It took Seras a moment to completely process that the one person she'd been mulling the morning over was literally looming over her. He stood so close to the back of her chair that she actually had to crane her head back to catch a glimpse of his face, darkly tinted eyeglasses and all. A faint hint of musky pine and… something else drifted off of him. She couldn't place it but it was so familiar… it was on the tip of her tongue…

He gently laid his hand on her shoulder and paced to her right side, glancing over the textbooks with irritatingly amused interest. Once again, they were so close. Too close.

"This isn't the average reading material for a lady, Miss Victoria." He said as he casually thumbed through her copy of _An Analysis of a Criminal Philosophy.* _Though she knew it was last thing she had to worry about,* Seras couldn't help but be irritated that he lost her page.

Seras stared at the Count in a sort of dumbstruck surprise at the lack of formal greetings. She hadn't even risen at his arrival, let alone address him!

Seras practically tumbled out of her chair and took a few – many – steps back from the table and the Count, who still had his hand in her book and his eyes on her. The eyes that she still couldn't meet, couldn't even see.

And oh lord, oh _no_, they were alone.

By being so generous as to give her jewelry, although rather forward, he had made his intentions quite clear. Seras' eyes narrowed for a moment. She had already told him once that she was a respectable lady that would not allow herself to be trifled with. It would be best to politely address the Count and then take herself out of what could become a rather scandalous situation.

"Good Morning, My Lord." Seras curtsied demurely, making sure she kept her eyes on the floor. Her family couldn't afford a scandal, not while Edith had yet to be married.

"Morning? It's half past one in the afternoon." The Count drawled as he slowly stretched in to Seras' discarded chair. He seemed to take his time, slowly relaxing each and every long, defined limb with masculine ease.

Oh, God, she had to stop before she started blushing.

She hoped that she hadn't already. She could feel his eyes on her, absorbing her every move. It wasn't fair that he had the advantage of hiding his eyes, such an incriminating component of body language. She was certain he could read her like an open book. She was certain he knew she was attracted to him. She was wearing his necklace for goodness' sake.

…speaking of which, it'd probably be best to thank him for that before she ran away.

She held her hands at her waist, but didn't avert her eyes. She had always been told that forward men like him were not gentlemen; men like him were dangerous. She had to be assertive. After all, if she couldn't get a spoiled noble like him off her back, how did she ever expect to reprimand criminals? The question gave her strength, made her remember her determination and let her find her resolve.

"I've seemed to have lost track of time." Seras was happy to find her voice so steady. "If it is truly so late, then I must beg my leave, My Lord, to see that I pay my respects this afternoon." Yes, very good. Now all she had to do was thank him and she'd be on her wa-

"And with whom are you to visit?" The Count spoke suddenly, his smile turned cruel and mocking. "Soft-spoken harpies who you despise but are obligated not to? Women who barely have the capacity to think of things beside dresses and balls, men and socializing?"

Seras was quiet, because yes, that was what she had been planning to do. That was what she had been doing during the Season for the past two years, and it had gotten her this far… not that she particularly enjoyed it. In fact, Seras hated it, but she couldn't let him know that. She had to be leaving…

The Count sat quietly with chin in hand, watching her with a certain spark in his eye. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn't possibly bear to leave their conversation on such a note. She couldn't bear him thinking badly of her.

"I never said I enjoyed it." Seras' voice was quiet, but strong. The Count sat up, a sort of smile that she couldn't identify on his face.

"No indeed. And yet we both know that this afternoon that is where you shall be. Just like those afternoons past." She hated the way he said it. It made her feel ashamed of the monotonous, passive life she had lead so far.

"And what choice do I have in the matter, my Lord?" Seras took a step forward, her voice lightly laced with a certain degree of defiance. "To defy social customs is to invite excommunication, which opens a door to a new townhouse among the laborers." She was at the opposite side the table now and pulled back a chair in one swipe, much to the Count's amusement. Seras flopped down into the creaky old seat and reached across to grab her theoretic psychology text out of the Count's grasp. He only smiled. All he ever did was smile that awful, creepy smile.

"I don't think the laboring poor could afford townhomes." He was teasing her again. This time she didn't hesitate to outright glare at him.

"And how would you ever suspect to know? You're a Count, a prince. I doubt you've dealt with any situation worse than having to call for a forgotten fireplace to be lit." And from the sudden deep, terrifying frown that appeared on the Count's face, Seras guessed that she had finally fallen out of favor.

"One should not speak of things one knows little of." His voice was cold enough to cause the temperature to plummet a few degrees. Seras physically shivered – and had it suddenly gotten darker? The shadows from the bookshelves seemed longer than they had been a moment ago, and never had that unlit fireplace looked so foreboding. The cracked little old lamp flickered. Yes, Seras had officially fallen from grace, and it was time to make her escape. She slowly closed her textbook-

"So Miss Victoria, please do me the favor of explaining your interest in such material." He asked as soon as she had closed her book and made to get up. Seras stared at him for a long moment. The Count had switched right back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. Seras wasn't certain whether to be relieved or unsettled.

"Its purpose serves to prepare for the written exam for the Metropolitan Police Force." Seras finally spoke with a little piece of quiet pride. She had decided that it was better to be straightforward with the Count in all things…

He was quiet for a long moment. And then he laughed.

The Count laughed so hard that a bit of color appeared over his pallid complexion, and he had to grip the side of his stomach. He leaned forward in his chair and swung his walking stick over his lap, finally finishing the outburst with a slow series of chuckles. He looked up at her, his eyes still hidden by those damn eyeglasses. Seras was so affronted that she was speechless.

"Laugh all you want." She snipped tersely once she had regained her composure. "One day my name will be listed on the registrar." It would be. She see to make it so. The Count regarded her with another bemused smile.

"You are a surprising lady, Miss Victoria… although, I doubt one who is a police girl can be deemed a lady."

"I can be both, Count." Seras replied coolly as she flipped back open to her page and picked up from where she left off. Like hell she was leaving now. She had work to do, and she wasn't going to be scared away by some spoiled noble who disregarded her so casually! _He_ could be the one to leave! So she went back in to the text, trying her best to ignore his existence.

She had just gotten through three long, drawn-out pages when he chose to speak again.

"No, Miss Victoria, you cannot." Her head snapped up from the book in surprise. This time was no teasing smirk, no playful ire to his smile. His lips were tilted in to a solemn frown and his hands were folded on the table as if they were in the midst of discussing some battle strategy or coup d'état.

"Excuse me?" She just couldn't really get over the fact that he rebuked her statement from _ten minutes ago_.

"One cannot be a respectable lady and a police woman, Miss Victoria, unless the position of inspector prescribes for baking, sewing, drawing, reading, and other womanly affairs. Such a life deals with the underbelly of rotten society – it will chew you up, spit you out, and let you rot in your cynicism and broken ideals." He leaned a little further over the table, and Seras unconsciously mimicked his movements.

"A true 'lady' could never survive in such an environment, and it would be morally apprehensible to subject her to it." He finished speaking but Seras felt as if he still had more to say; or, perhaps she just wanted to hear him say more.

Seras avoided his gaze for a moment before realizing just how stupid she was acting. Here she was, determinedly studying for her exam, only to be put out by some man she just met? He wasn't even from England! Count or no count, what did he know? Seras met his gaze once again.

He knew nothing!

"Those who are not willing to sacrifice everything will never change anything. And if I don't do something to introduce a change for tomorrow, who will?" Seras flipped the page of her book, her eyes darting back and forth from his gaze to the text. She still had work to do.

"So then you're willing to become a martyr, Miss Victoria?" He smirked, but Seras could tell it was an attempt to cover something else up. "How noble… how idealistic. How interesting, how _unique_…" He murmured. She jolted up when she heard the shriek of his chair pushed back, and her heartbeat increased as he started to walk toward her side of the table. He now had her full attention.

"But do you really think they'll let a woman_, a woman like you_, on the force? Someone so soft and blonde, so innocent and sweet… it would be a crime, they'd say, to put you in harm's way." He was taking his precious time and only half way around the table.

"And it wouldn't matter if you scored highest on the written and physical exams, my dear Police Girl, because they'd say a man would naturally be better adept than a woman anyway. A woman would faint at the sight of blood, a woman would be too afraid to confront criminals and convicts. A woman could never handle such a life, Police Girl." He was next to her now, though not as close as before, and her body responded with the same fight-or-flight reaction like it had back then.

She chose to fight.

"Then… I'll make them change! I will not allow them to define me! I will not allow them to decide my life based on idiotic, preconceived prejudices!" She stood. The Count leaned on the table, observing her with that same small, searching smile that she couldn't trust.

"Change is not always within your power, Police Girl, and there are some things in this world that are meant to be decided for us." The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. It was some sort of heavily veiled and disguised threat, but about what she couldn't imagine. But what she did know was that it was a good time to leave when threats were being handed ou.

She began to stack the text books and he stood from the table, making his way to the fireplace to start a fire. Her gaze couldn't help but follow his elegant, masculine form as it slid across the room, allowing an ample display of his lower half when he-

"Seras dear!"

Seras was snapped out of her embarrassing daydream at the sound of Edith's voice. If she didn't know better, Seras swore she heard something like a hiss or a sigh coming from the direction of the Count. But that was silly – the count was a gentleman after all.

"Oh, Edith!" Seras stood abruptly to greet her sister with a flustered smile. And then she realized just how much trouble she was in by the flabbergasted look on her sister's face.

Edith's eyes darted from Seras to the Count, who was still slinking around by the new fire, and then back to Seras. There were a lot of questions that demanded immediate answers, but weren't meant to be voiced outside their bedrooms. For the present they simply had to pretend like nothing was the matter, even though Seras could read Edith's disapproval like an open book.

And it wasn't as if it was wrong of her to disapprove. Had anyone else caught sight of her and the Count alone in a private, hidden away corner of the library… well, the rumors certainly wouldn't have done wonders for either of their reputations.

The room was awkwardly quiet. The Count was still by the fireplace, leaning against the wall like he owned the place. And perhaps, Seras mused, he did. You never really knew what went on among all those "foreign investments." He seemed to be watching their exchange, but one could never be totally certain because of those eyeglasses, and for once he wasn't smiling. He was scarily impassive.

Seras coughed lightly, gaining Edith and the Count's attention, and smiled sheepishly.

"I hope you'll both forgive me, for I fear I can be a tad slow at times." She tried to laugh lightly, tried to pretend like there suddenly wasn't this awful, tense atmosphere between the three of them.

"Miss Edith Victoria, may I introduce you to Count Dracul of Wallachia?" Seras took her sister's hand and led her to where the Count was situated. She noticed with a tad of dismay that he didn't extend her hand right away. Seras didn't appreciate the thought of him trying to snub her sister, but quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. She was probably exaggerating.

"My Lord, may I introduce you to Miss Edith Victoria?" Seras chirped, breathing a sigh of relief when he took her sister's hand and bent over to kiss the top of it (_without_, Seras noticed, smelling her wrist.)

But then when he straightened… well, Seras thought that he didn't seem too happy. While she certainly wasn't acquainted well enough with the Count to gauge his emotions and reactions, this one was certainly _off_.

His expression was stony, listless at best. He offered Edith no witty banter to exchange, no polite small talk. Seras shifted uncomfortably.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Count Dracul." And there was something off about Edith as well. Last night she had practically arranged a manhunt to find the very man in front of her but now seemed rather uncertain, standoffish even.

The Count merely nodded in response, taking a few steps back to stand next to Seras again. If Edith was offended by the Count's less than exuberant response, she didn't show it.

She held back a shiver when their arms brushed – god, she wasn't some quivering schoolgirl. She should not be so affected by a man… he was just a man, after all. There were plenty enough of them out there. Seras bit her lip as silence once again reigned free. Was she expected to make conversation now?

"Unfortunately My Lord, I must beg my sister and I's leave of you. We are expected home shortly." Seras blinked. She hadn't even gotten through a chapter in one of her texts, and Seras knew that she wasn't due back until well into the afternoon. Was the carriage even here yet? What was Edith trying to do?

"Edith," Seras started. She really needed to get some reading done, and she couldn't very well take the texts home for fear of her mother discovering them. Unfortunately for Seras, Edith couldn't have cared less.

"Our greatest of apologies, My Lord." Edith said with another deep curtsey, although Seras could tell she really wasn't sorry. But why? Why so eager to get away from- Seras bit back a hiss when Edith grabbed her hand with a harsh pinch as she tried to pull her away.

Oh, right. Potential scandal caused by being alone with an influential, much older and probably much more experienced suitor.

"You cannot leave now." Seras watched Edith stiffen at the Count's blatant command. Slowly, both sisters turned to a less than happy nobleman.

"I beg-"

"The storm has just begun, and what of your carriage? Are you truly certain of it being right outside for your disposal? Your father is a busy man who cannot afford to have his daughters running about the town." Seras wasn't sure to feel affronted by their insinuated frivolity or flattered that he cared about their well-being.

"I believe it to be waiting outside, or at least close to arriving, My Lord." Edith responded with what Seras could tell was a forced smile. Seras pulled her hand of her sister's.

The Count raised a brow without a smile, and knocked his wolf-headed walking stick on the floor with an air of finality. "Well then, shall we assure you ladies do not ruin your corsets in the rain and see if Miss Edith is correct?" He remarked snidely as he glided by the two and disappeared around one of the tall bookcases.

The sisters watched the space for a moment in stunned silence before following after, one curious and one reluctant. They chose to ignore the comment about their corsets – he was, after all, a noble. Seras yipped when Edith grabbed her wrist from behind, forcefully pulling her back to walk at her side.

"Seras, just _what have_ _you been doing_?" Edith hissed into her ear, her voice more frantic and fearful than Seras had expected it to be. She had thought Edith would've been angry as opposed to afraid.

Seras eyed Edith with uncertainty. "I was studying, sister. That's all." Edith gave her an unnerving stare.

"And him?"

"He… joined me after I settled in."

"_Seras!_"

"Edith, I swear to you that nothing happened!" Seras furiously whispered, feeling her face flush at the accusation. "I-I made to leave, but he spoke of things that I could not in good conscience leave without challenging!"

Edith practically groaned, the stark opposite of ladylike behavior. Seras couldn't help but stare at the display. Come to think of it, Edith was nothing like her usual self. Her cheeks were flushed and her complexion was blotchy at best. Worst of all, her hems with flecked with spots of mud, and her curls were windblown and spiked with frizz. "Seras, you allow your stubbornness to guide you too often! Imagine what hecould have done!"

Seras didn't say anything more. Something was very, very off. Edith was not acting herself. And Seras didn't want to say that something was_ wrong_, because so far nothing was and God forbid fate should decide to change that for her. But Edith was never like this… she was too afraid of being seen and slighted for a lack of composure, afraid of giving anyone something to use against her.

It was a good thing Seras believed in free will rather than fate.

The Count was already standing by the doorway when the sisters arrived and cast rather impatient glances out one of the large windows, where large raindrops began to beat against the glass. For Seras, today's experience with the Count had equivocated to meeting an entirely different man from the ball. Well, the more she thought about the night previous, the more obvious some of his peculiarities became. His irritation, his impatience, his arrogance… all were quickly coming to light. Seras wasn't sure if she wanted a suitor like him, just another man who believed that by marrying her she suddenly became his property whether she liked it or not. Did he really think that she was fickle-minded enough to fall in love with him because he gave her pretty, shiny things?

She looked down at the crystal hanging at her neck in all its glory and scowled to herself.

"Do you find fault with it?" She looked up, caught off guard. The Count had apparently pulled himself out of his reverie just in time to witness her making faces at the undoubtedly priceless crystal necklace he had graciously gifted her with.

Wow Seras, way to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Oh," Seras blushed in embarrassment, "no! I.. It's… You were the one to give it to me, then?'

"Obviously." Again, he hadn't been _this _rude last night.

"T-thank you." She was trying not to be intimidated by his dark expression (which was perfectly back dropped by the ongoing thunderstorm), but found herself failing to do so. Badly.

"You dislike it." Why were all the nobles she had met recently so blunt?

"_No_!" Seras quickly bit back, taking a step forward. Surprised by her own sudden brashness, Seras's blush darkened and she stepped back next to Edith. "No, what I meant was that… that…"

He might as well have just started tapping his foot impatiently on floor with the peevish look he was giving her. But thankfully Wallachians didn't do that.

"The necklace and the pin were both very beautiful. But I don't deserve…" She paused, not wanting to belittle herself, "…don't need such flattery. You needn't spend such excess on one such as me." Hopefully that was acceptable enough and he wouldn't take offense, but you could never be sure about the aristocracy when ego came in to play.

For a moment, Edith thought the Count was surprised by her sister's words. But any lingering traces of astonishment were quickly paved over by a small, overly amused and almost satisfied smile.

"Such trinkets matter little to me when I have so many, Miss Victoria. Consider them a gift for allowing one such as myself the pleasure of your company last night." His wording and ill-hidden innuendo made her tongue go dry, and for a moment she could only nod before she could gather her wits about her. Good lord, she had to get a hold of herself! What was wrong with her? She had never had so much trouble interacting with a man before!

But wait… if it had only been a gift, did that mean he didn't intend to court her? She relaxed slightly at the thought while another part of her simultaneously crumpled in disappointment. Seras decided not to address that thought process at the moment.

"Speaking of company…" the Count said as he turned back to the window, just in time to see a sparkling new black carriage lead by two thoroughbred Friesians stop in front of the library. "My coach has arrived. Might I offer assistance to such fine young ladies? It would kill the gentleman inside of me to leave you here, alone and waiting for your carriage in the cold rain." He had decide to switch back to the persona Seras had familiarized herself with last night, right down to that satirical smile and cock of the head.

Seras and Edith exchanged glances. It wasn't as if they weren't going to be standing in the library, watching for their father's older coach from the window.

"Thank you for your concern, My Lord," Edith began, "but I'm afraid our coach will be expecting us. With great regret we must decline your offer." She offered a sorry smile. The Count didn't seem put out in the least.

"Oh come now Miss Victoria, are you really going to deny me, the Lord of Wallachia?" He slowly walked away from the window, his footsteps clicking on the faded wood flooring. "You would greatly offend me and leave me with a horrid impression of Englishmen." Edith's expression faltered slightly.

"It is not proper. We are respectable ladies, and respectable ladies do not ride unattended in closed carriages with men."

"Wonderful! We are in agreement. By the prescience of both sisters neither one is unattended, and have no reason to worry because they will not be accompanied by a man, but a gentleman." His smile was cunning and malicious, all too aware of the trap he had set. He confidently strode forward to take each sister's arm in one of his own and pulled them toward the door.

Edith shuddered as a drop of cold sweat fall down her back. Seras' heart rate had somehow gone up another notch at his very touch. They were trapped, and all three of them knew it.

The carriage ride hadn't been as bad as Edith had predicted… but then, she had mentally prepared herself for the worst. Traffic was light – as could be predicted for a Sunday – and the supposed criminal hadn't assaulted or attacked them the minute he pulled the door closed. In fact, he hadn't even paid much attention to her at all and chose to focus much of the conversation on Seras, much to her own relief and unease.

"_It would do your sister well to be on her guard and reject the Count's advances for her own safety."_

Sir Hellsing's words floated through her mind every time Seras anwsered one of the Count's questions, though to be fair all of them were relatively innocent. What was her favorite flower? Who were her friends? When was her birthdate? Where was she born?

A majority of the ride was spent discussing some new, thick, Russian book Edith had never found the interest or time to read: _Peace and War_, _War and Peace_, whatever it had been called.

They liked to debate justice and fairness. The Count's less than merciful views made her feel uncomfortable, and from her sister's reactions, Seras shared in her misgivings. But that didn't stop her from giggling and flirting and doing the exact opposite of what Edith had hoped she was going to do.

Edith didn't want to play the villain's role. She had hoped that Seras would've given this man the polite indifference and rejection that she gave all her other suitors. But of course for this man, that wasn't the case. It was just Edith's luck that Seras would be flirty, flustered, intrigued, irritated, and attracted to only this man.

Of course.

No matter, Edith tried to reconcile with herself as the carriage pulled to a halt outside their brown brick townhouse. It was no matter of her concern, Edith thought as she watched the Count leap from the carriage to offer his hand to the ladies still inside. It was up to her parents to make the decision, not her. It was none of her concern.

She watched Seras take his hand to be practically dragged out of the carriage like she weighed nothing more than a flower. She watched as Seras stumbled from the abrupt pull and ended up almost flush against the Count's chest, the smug smirk and strategically placed hand on Seras' lower back all too telling.

Edith helped herself down, forgotten, and watched as her sister flew from his grasp with a fluster of apologies and self-beratings. The Count smiled as he said something to her sister, which of course only made her sputter more and indignantly move toward the front step. Edith turned her attention from Seras, only then to meet his uncovered gaze.

_His red-as-blood gaze_.

And then the eyeglasses were replaced, he turned to follow Seras up the step, and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. But oh, that _thing_ was entering her home! That _thing_ had been invited in! She had to move, she had to warn them!

Edith jerked from her stupor and ran up the slick steps, tripping on her skirts once or twice, to practically throw herself through the ornately decorated door only to find her father and an apparently visiting Mr. Thornsbury shaking hands with the monstrosity. Seras was being mauled by their mother, who was pulling and clapping at every wrinkle in Seras' dress and skin.

Edith stood in the doorway, watching. For a moment she thought she saw his face flicker in her direction with the hint of one of those awful smiles.

It was a smile that kept her up late that night and helped her finish a hasty letter to Sir Hellsing.

_Sir Hellsing,_

_Your expertise may be required after all. After experiencing certain events, I would be most indebted to you if you could spare an afternoon to speak about the circumstances. I find myself in a grievous need of your advice, and I pray it is not too late. _

The wording was labored over and laced with hyperbole and double meaning for fear of it being opened by the wrong eyes before reaching Sir Hellsing. After it was postmarked and sneakily placed in the gilded gold mailbox on the front stoop, its writer returned to bed with a heart made lighter by the knowledge of initiating a possible solution. It was a good thing that she was unaware of the creeping shadow that easily read the letter through the envelope, able to catch on to her every meaning.

* * *

**Notes:**

- Alexander Bain didn't write _An Analysis of a Criminal Philosophy. _In fact, no one did. I made it up.

- According to social norms at the time, any young lady caught alone with her suitor was doomed to social damnation under the assumption that her respectability (aka virginity or lord knows what else) could've been potentially lost in the encounter.

- Did anyone catch the Armin Arlert quote?

Thank you all so much for the wonderful, inspirational reviews. They mean the world to me and keep me going when I have nothing to give. Please keep them coming, you don't know how much they make my day. I wrote this chapter on high doses of Frappuccino and post-midterm euphoria. It's a nice combo.

See you next time!

- Della


	4. IV

Disclaimer: I don't own _Hellsing_, and don't know why you would think that I did!

* * *

**IV.**

Seras made it a point to _slam_ her bedroom door extra loud, just in case her family wasn't totally sure of her opinion on the subject. The sound was followed by the click of a lock and then a frantic rapping, a frantic tapping at her chamber door.

"Seras! Seras, open the door!" It was Edith.

Seras tore at the buttons on the back of her dress in a mad attempt to get ready for bed by herself, but just couldn't reach that one bloody button. And she-

"I need to speak with you Seras. It's important, you must hear me! Please!"

-would be damned if she left her room before she could sort out this mess in her head, let alone spoke with anyone or let them in. She was going to have the rest of the night to herself if it killed her. After she properly calmed down a bit Seras planned to sort the ordeal out in her mind, and then retire to bed.

Ah yes, bed. What a marvelous idea.

The knocking subsided for a moment, and Seras looked up from her night drawer. Had she really given up so quickly?

"You are acting such the child, Seras!" Edith suddenly screeched from the other side of the door, simultaneously resuming her barrage.

Seras' eyes widened. But wait, no, she wasn't going to take such obvious bait. If previous endeavors served for any study, Edith would tire and give up eventually. It was only a matter-

"_Why do I have to act more mature when you're supposedly the eldest_?"

-of time.

Seras clenched her fists, her nails indenting little half-crescents in her palms as she stalked across her room, unlocked and then threw the door open. Edith stood there, frozen with an angry grimace and her fist poised to knock on the door.

"Childish? Me, childish! You hypocrite! How dare you call me childish when you manipulated them to force me to decline!" Seras snapped, flicking an accusing finger in Edith's face. Edith, still done up in her pretty pastel pink visiting dress, took an offended step back.

"I did it only with your best interest in mind!" She said, clutching her hand to her chest with – what Seras could deduce to be – a sincere expression. But then again, Edith hadn't gotten to be one of the most promising up-and-coming young ladies in the _ton_ with bad acting.

"Yes, it would be in my best interest to be the sister-in-law of a Count, wouldn't it?" Seras hissed back, wincing when she realized just how harsh she sounded. Edith narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, made defiant by the accusation.

"You know that I don't truly feel that way, so stop lording what I said at the ball over me!" Edith snapped, pushing Seras back in to her bedroom and quietly shutting the door behind her. "I know you haven't been well lately, but I will not tolerate you taking it out on me!" She pulled off her gloves and hastily slammed them on Seras' nightstand.

At the mention of her affliction, Seras felt her limbs grow heavy and her mind get a bit foggy. It was Friday evening, but she had been feeling ill since waking up Monday morning. Of course, it wasn't a very worrisome illness because she hadn't been feverish, coughing, vomiting, or shivering, so Seras had learned to work with it even though it made her every waking hour incoherently miserable.

Her body was as heavy as lead and she could barely focus long enough to read a page of Anna Karenina, let alone humor the irritatingly prying women the Victorias had visited with for the past few evenings.

_How did you ever meet the Count, Seras?_

_What is he like, Seras?_

_I've heard you've befriended him, Seras._

_Is he courting you, Seras?_

It was all anyone could even think to talk about, and it was all her mother seemed to care to talk about. Never mind Edith and her wonderful, Oxford-bound suitors; Seras had gained the interest of an exotic nobleman. Of course, whenever they had to tell these ladies that no, she was not officially being courted by the Count, there was a slight pause and an inaudible breath of relief from the other women. Then they would try to comfort her, as if there was no possibility of him ever taking a real interest in her, and remind her that Mr. Thornsbury _had_ always had his eye on her.

There was never any mention of the jewelry or the rose gift outside of the Victoria household. By accepting his forward gifts, Seras herself had been too forward, and to admit such a fault could end up catastrophic. Seras wasn't entirely sure how or why it would be, but knew better than to say anything about it.

Throughout all this constant gabbing and gossiping about the Count, Seras had found him to constantly be on her mind… and in her dreams. Some of them had been embarrassing to mull over afterward, involving light kisses and tender caresses… and sometimes things that could never, ever be spoken of outside the bedroom. But they were now engrained in her consciousness. It didn't her surprise her when she thought about it.

They _had_ had a very good conversation when he escorted her and Edith home on Sunday. It had been one of those conversations where there was so much hadn't needed to be spoken to be understood – and not to mention he had the same literary tastes as her. His gifts were nothing to scoff at either, but Seras had never been very materialistic.

He was also probably the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Sometimes Seras went reeling, trying to figure out what could've possibly attracted someone as ethereally beautiful as him to someone like her. Okay, so maybe she wasn't ugly per say, but the Count was on an entirely different level.

Through no new part on his behalf, Seras had taken a rather keen interest in the Count.

So with all these new emotions and circumstances, imagine her excitement when an invitation from the Count arrived just at twilight requesting Seras' accompaniment to a delightfully exclusive ball. Finally they could get to know each other without worrying about causing a scandal! Then imagine her surprise when, after reading the letter to family after supper, Edith blatantly protested against Seras accompanying him, and her father's quick agreement to it.

It was much too forward an invitation, Edith said. To accept it would give him, and thus everyone else, the wrong opinion of her especially after his previous gifts. Her father, all too wary of the ills of man, had wasted no time in agreeing even though he had met the Count on several occasions.

At first, Seras had thought she heard them wrong. And then she absorbed what had happened.

Then she became angry.

"You accuse me of being childish when you allow your jealousy to tamper with your sister's prospects!" Seras snapped, taking a step back to lean on the doorframe. She had found that fatigue was a major player in her mystery illness, unfortunately.

"I only try to protect you! He is not to be trusted, he, he-" Edith's vice grew shriller and more frustrated with every word. How badly she wanted to warn her sister of the monster, of what he could be and what he could do! But Sir Hellsing's warning from the Church rang clear in her mind, and it took everything she had to bite her tongue.

"What is he, Edith?" She was now putting her entire weight on to the doorframe. She was so tired, much too tired to argue anymore.

Edith made a face, and both sisters stared at each other for a pregnant pause.

Edith sighed and shook her head. "No, I… I'm sorry, Seras. I shouldn't've have interfered. Sometimes I find it difficult to follow in such a wonderful elder sister's footsteps, and get a bit sour." Edith apologized, forcing a small smile. She was surprised when Seras actually seemed to believe her.

"Oh, I'm sorry too, Edith." Seras said with a little laugh, somehow finding the strength to push herself off the doorframe to pull Edith in for an impromptu hug. Edith held on to her embrace for a moment, burying her face into the shoulder of her sister's soap scented nightgown.

"Edith…" Seras murmured when her sister's grip tightened, and her shoulders began to shake. "Edith, dear, are you alright? I-I'm sorry that I was mean… I really shouldn't have been so harsh! Oh, nothing I said was true at all! Edith?"

Edith took another deep breath before finally pulling out of the embrace, meeting her sister's concerned face with another forced, bright smile. "I'm so silly sometimes, Seras, I… it's quite late, you should be in bed with your illness!" Edith switched the topic with a cheery laugh, grabbing her sister's shoulders and pushing her in to her bedroom.

"Off to bed with you!" Edith laughed, pushing Seras all the way in to the room to her bed. "How embarrassing it would be to fall asleep as you ate scones at Mr. Thornsbury's tea!"

"Oh, don't remind me! Say, why you don't have to suffer with me?" Seras groaned, flopping on to the goose-down blankets.

"I've already made plans for the afternoon, thank you very much!" Edith chirped, skipping toward the door.

"Good night, Seras."

"Good night, Edith."

As Edith pulled the door closed, she watched Seras put out the lamp, and watched darkness take over. She quickly clicked it shut, and pulled her hand off the doorknob as if burned. She did not put out her own lamp that night.

The morning seemed to come as go as quickly as the sun rose, and by a quarter to noon the entire household was as hectic as a Persian bazaar. The Victoria ladies stood in the entry hall, fans and bonnets in hand, the younger two patiently waiting for their mother to finish making last minute preparations before they set out.

"And yes, have him know that if anything goes wrong I shall place blame wholeheartedly on him." Mrs. Victoria explained to Nora, the servant. "Oh, I do think that he enjoy torturing me so! Leaving your family to answer the invitation of a colleague – oh, what cruelty! Oh, my poor nerves!" She fanned her face dramatically, effectively misplacing her bangs and making her even more stressed.

Usually the sisters would have been sharing a laugh at their mother's expense (because living with such a character required a good sense of humor), but this morning neither expressed such a thought. They stood beside each other, though not together, and merely watched their mother get on. They had spoken to one another and had laughed with one another already this morning, but there was still a lingering feeling of discontent from the previous night.

Mrs. Victoria finally seemed to realize that if they didn't get on now they wouldn't be getting anywhere, and turned away from Nora with an aggrieved sigh before placing her bonnet on her head and heading out the front door. The sisters followed suit, always the obedient daughters.

"I tell you girls, the life of a lady never ceases." For what it was worth, Mrs. Victoria could tie a bow better than anyone in London. Edith thought it came in handy to have such an able, fashionable mother, especially given that she was about to meet with the young matriarch of one of England's most noble and respected families.

The invitation to tea had arrived several days after she had originally sent her note, and had been delivered by a less than savory fellow who would've been better suited as a mercenary than a messenger. Or, perhaps he really had been a mercenary - you never knew about aristocrats, especially those as eccentric as Sir Integra Hellsing.

Her family had been very surprised, to say the least, and Edith had been forced to fabricate a little story about Father Alexander introducing them (true), them hitting it off as fast friends (maybe slightly untrue), and Integra allowing Edith to call on her any time she wished (sort of true). No one had really believed her, and Edith couldn't blame them. She was a terrible liar. But they couldn't just have her reject Sir Hellsing's request, no matter how out of the blue it had seemed to be.

But as their modest carriage was escorted through thick wrought iron gates, along a mile drive, and finally the main drive of the Hellsing Manor, Edith suddenly felt so anxious she wished that her family had disagreed with the whole thing. The mansion was as gothic in design, and as intimidating and elegant as its current heir. When the carriage finally reached the main entrance they were greeted by a stately, salt and pepper gentleman who had apparently met Seras before.

"It was the Duke's last ball, I believe." He had said.

"Oh yes, it is nice to see you again!" Seras had responded, perfectly masking her suspicion of what business Edith had to do with such people with practiced, cheery politeness.

Edith was helped out of the carriage and eventually into the mansion, even though her mother and Seras had suggested that they pay their respects to Sir Hellsing as well. Edith was thankful that Walter was as blunt as he was tactical when he plainly stated that the aristocrat did not see people she did not send for. At this point all Edith had to think was merely based on intuition and hunches, terrible foreboding feelings and malicious thoughts…

But, Edith thought as they passed through the regal estate, she would know for certain after this meeting. Sir Hellsing and her retainer wouldn't let themselves be bothered any longer than need be, so hopefully Sir Hellsing could put her mind at ease and Edith could get home and finish her embroidery. She was falling very far behind in it.

The pair passed through a long, stately hallway lined with portraits of who Edith supposed were Sir Integra's predecessors. Walter didn't slow his pace for any art admiration, so she only had a moment to glance over each portrait as she passed. The collection struck her as… off. What she found was odd was that the first half of portraits expectedly portrayed fair, elegant gentlemen who held the usual smug happiness that all noblemen seemed to be born with.

The third to last portrait was rather somber compared to its predecessor, bathed in solemn tones and giving light to a tight-lipped old gentleman. The next two paintings continued to lose any sort of pleasure or frivolity as they continued down the line, each Hellsing heir seemingly grower colder and guarded as the generations passed. Strangely, there was not yet one of Integra. Perhaps she thought herself too young for a portrait, or perhaps she thought the tradition too old-fashioned to continue. Or, perhaps she hadn't earned her right to one yet.

Finally, they came to a large set of Moroccan wood doors. Walter knocked twice before fluidly pushing one open, holding the door for her.

The office was rather plain and practical, with large sets of windows behind a varnished oak business desk and oversized leather chair. Edith shuffled toward the desk, where Sir Integra seemed to be very busy with writing reports and chewing cigars. A cloud of sweet smoke choked the air like the incense Father Anderson used in Church, and Edith found it rather hard to breathe until she took one of the padded chairs opposite the desk effectively pulling her down and out of the cloud.

They sat there like that for a bit, Sir Integra working, Edith watching her continue to work, and Walter dutifully standing off in the corner behind Sir Integra's desk. Edith didn't dare say anything, for to be invited to such a private room was a great honor in itself.

It was only was Sir Integra had to reach for a new cigar did she seem to take notice of Edith's presence. She regarded Edith coolly as she held up her cigar for Walter to light, as if checking her over for something in particular.

"Miss Victoria." A white puff of smoke flew from her lips, and Edith tried her hardest not to cough.

"I greatly appreciate-" Edith coughed. "-your hospitality, Sir Hellsing." Sir Integra was still watching her with those emotionless eyes, seeming to see her very soul and pass heavenly judgment. Edith thought it was justified. After all, she _had_ made quite preposterous claims; a malicious red-eyed nobleman? Ridiculous!

Edith had been surprised that Sir Integra had decided to see her, let alone finish her letter after making such a claim.

Sir Hellsing merely nodded and pushed the stack of paperwork aside, giving her full attention to her uncomfortable client. "Please further explain the peculiarities you mentioned in the letter, and why they trouble you." She said, leaning back in to her red leather chair with a surprisingly blatant disregard for posture.

Edith quickly nodded. "Of course."

And so she told Sir Hellsing about how strange she found the man, how rude he and forward he had been, how he had shown such an uncomfortably obvious affection for her Seras, and those terrifying red eyes. But when she spoke of the incidents out loud, the more silly and paranoid she thought she sounded. And judging by Sir Hellsing's irritated expression, the noble thought the same.

"And how fares your family?" It was one of those questions that signaled an end to a conversation. Although Sir Integra regarded the Count as some kind of threat, Edith had not apparently given her enough information to go by. Edith bit her lip. No, no that wouldn't do! She knew the Count was dangerous, and Sir Hellsing knew he was as well!

"Seras fell ill shortly after making the Count's acquaintance in the library the Sunday last." Edith quickly piped up, her voice hasty and desperate. Sir Hellsing's head snapped from the crystal clock on the corner of her desk to Edith once again.

"Indiscriminately describe your sister's ailment." She said as she crushed the butt of her cigar in to the marble ash tray before reaching for a new one.

"Seras has been…" Edith thought back to her sister's earlier outburst, "not herself. I can infer that's she's been very sluggish and inattentive these past few days, and rarely touches her meals. She's much too pale, and just the other morning had to lie down for fear of a swoon."

Edith jumped over her words, feeling her heart race when the noble shared a look with her retainer. Truth be told, Edith hadn't thought that Seras was made ill by the Count. All she had known was that she couldn't let this meeting go to waste.

"You've accurately described the symptoms of anemia, Miss. Victoria." Walter explained as he placed a light under Sir Integra's waiting cigar.

Edith blinked, surprised. "Anemia! Why, my sister is not anemic in the slightest!"

"She apparently is now." Sir Hellsing sighed as she rolled the cigar through her fingers, surveying Edith with an unreadable expression. "Exactly what happened after the Count revealed his eyes to you?"

"Seras invited him inside, where he met my mother, father, and my father's colleague Mr. Thornsbury. He left quite promptly afterward."

Integra set down her cigar for the first time in the meeting and exchanged it for what seemed to be a small crystal glass of scotch. Her lips were pulled back in to a taunt, bitter smile. Walter seemed to take the news with less humor, and remained standing behind Sir Integra's chair with a grave expression.

"You must understand, Miss Victoria, that my organization operates almost solely on secrecy and discretion. As such I am not at liberty to fully explain your sister's predicament, but rest assured that you _were quite_ justified in seeking my assistance. From the information you've given me, I am able to discern the situation. These events are indeed linked." Sir Integra deadpanned, resting her folded hands next to the green marble ashtray.

Edith leaned forward in her chair, forcing herself not to smile. Yes! Now hopefully Sir Hellsing could help Seras, send the Count back to whatever awful little village he sprang from, and Seras could move on to follow her dreams or whatever.

"Sir Integra… you will help me help Seras, won't you?" Edith asked all too hopefully, thinking she already knew the answer. Her heart caught a chill when she saw the heiress' expression.

"You know not what you ask, Miss." She said after a moment, her eyes narrowed and voice cold. Edith bit back a gulp. She still had another question.

"And... what exactly is the Count… Sir Hellsing?" Edith managed to whisper even though the sudden silence made it feel like a scream. Both Sir Hellsing and Walter regarded her for a tense moment, analyzing her, checking her. After a long moment, Sir Hellsing finally heaved a sigh.

"He is not a child of God like you and I, Miss Victoria."

Edith gawked at her, wringing her hands together. Never had she felt so uncertain, so helpless, so afraid. Indirect answers always hinted at the full truth. This Count… this monster… was exactly what she had feared, perhaps even worse, and as of right now Edith had no way of saving her sister.

"What will he do to her? Why does he want her? How can I save her?' Edith cried, standing so suddenly that she flipped her chair. Sir Hellsing stood as well and opened one of her desk drawers, reaching inside to pull out two simple silver crosses on silver chains. She offered them to Edith over the table, her arm as stiff and unjointed as a steel rod.

"Both you and she are to wear these at all times. _Never_ remove them, not even to bathe." Sir Integra warned her as she made her way around the desk, crossing her arms behind her. Her navy men's suit was freshly ironed with not a crease to be seen, and her footsteps were silent on the thick Persian rug.

"When you see the Count next… and you most definitely will see him again… blatantly rebuke his invitation in to your home." Sir Hellsing said with the utmost seriousness, casting a glance over her shoulder at her butler.

"What? But that'd only anger him! What if he decided to… to… kill us in our beds! Mere words would not deter him!" Edith blanched. She hadn't intended to use such a cliché, but it was very well tuned for her situation.

But Sir Hellsing only smirked, which in turn made Edith feel a little relieved and a little foolish.

"Oh yes, he may very well become angry, but he will not be able to harm you there unless you allow him to."

Edith frowned. "I don't see why that would matter to someone as awful as he."

Sir Hellsing matched her frown, but chose to ignore her comment. "You mustn't tell anyone of our meeting, especially your sister. Sometimes ignorance is not only bliss, but also safety. Her innocence may save her, and we must keep such an advantage."

* * *

Seras had always favored High Tea* over Low Tea, and she had always preferred Oolong over Darjeeling. But, of course Mr. Thornsbury was only serving Darjeeling at his Low Tea, she was starving, and his invitation had specifically called for hats. She hated hats, especially the one she was wearing now.

The finely woven, circular white straw bonnet was trimmed with sky blue silk flowers and bows that managed to collect so much dust in its stay in her armoire that it was effectively giving her a cold. The silk blue streamers tickled the back of neck to the point of causing the skin to break out in irritation, and once again her corset was too tight. She was hungry and wanted to eat, but it was an unwritten rule that ladies didn't eat more than a teacake in public. All in all, Seras was having a miserable time.

It was a rather large get-together filled with lesser aristocrats and higher-ranking gentry, other high-end attorneys and their higher-end clients, and of course every man had brought his wife. But for a tea so large, it was rather more informal than most; but Mr. Thornsbury's uncle had recently been named the Duke of Hampshire*, catapulting his own social status by several degrees. He now had the leverage to do whatever he wanted to at his tea.

Seras and her mother were in the middle of a round of croquet in the back garden with the wife of one of Mr. Victoria's acquaintances and her daughter. The older women never seeming to take a breath in between streams of gossip while their daughters struggled to maintain conversation about the weather. Seras also had the worst score, which she contributed to her foul health. The only thing was that she couldn't let anyone know just how foul it really was. Illness was a disgusting and only to be spoken of in the privacy of one's own home, and not in polite society.

Mr. Thornsbury had seemed to notice something was off when she and her mother had greeted him, but was polite enough not to mention it. And now she awkwardly stood with her mother and her mother's friend's daughter, trying her best to stomach the Darjeeling tea that had been served and survive this last damn game of croquet. They were going to be leaving soon – they had to be leaving soon, right? Seras hoped so. She really, really hoped so.

"Oh!" The friend suddenly stopped her flow of gossip to look at something well behind Seras' shoulder, probably at someone on the patio. Seras leaned her weight on her racket, not bothering to see who it was. She felt like she barely had the energy to stand anymore, let alone make small talk.

"Good afternoon, My Lord!" Mrs. Victoria practically yelled as she and the other ladies dipped into deep curtsies.

Seras felt like her insides froze. The Count, here? But she hadn't mentally prepared herself for meeting him yet! She had sent her note of declination yesterday morning, and for the sake of avoiding awkward conversation she really hoped he hadn't read it yet. She forced herself to turn around and saw that yes, he most definitely had gotten her letter.

He nodded to the group before continuing to advance toward them, toward her, like a falcon descending on its mouse. He wore the usual gentleman's attire accented with bits of red here and there, and his eyeglasses were still irritatingly dark. His steps were as heavy as his expression, and his frown was bitter enough to make the Darjeeling seem sweet.

He stopped just in front of her to look down on her, making it painfully obvious just why he seemed so bothered. Seras gulped, unsure of whether to feel guilty, afraid, or angry at the unfairness of it all. After all, it hadn't been her idea to reject his offer!

The other three women wisely made their way to a hole farther down the line, just out of hearing distance but certainly well in sight. This would make the gossip mill go in to overdrive.

"I wanted to tell you that I received your note, and will have you know that I found a much more suitable companion to accompany me to the ball. You mustn't worry for my sake, Miss Victoria." His words weren't biting or snappish, but cool and calm. It seemed to make them all the crueler.

Seras felt her throat constricting and her eyes prickling as her mind begged her tears not to fall, to only wait a moment more. But she couldn't speak, she couldn't think of something smart or ladylike to say. She had wanted to go with him! It wasn't her fault that she couldn't attend; her father had practically hovered over her shoulder as she wrote the note, and explicitly disallowed her from mentioning her rejection stemmed from the wishes of her family.

Seras took in a shaky breathe. And now, because of her family's overprotectiveness, she had been replaced for what could've been such a magical night! Oh, what could have been! It was almost too painful to think about.

"I, I swear to you that I would have accepted you." Seras managed to blurt out, her voice cracking here and there and her mind too taken by emotion to filter her words. The Count seemed unchanged

"I would have accepted you had my family allowed it!" Seras' face burned in shame and embarrassment as she felt hot tears slide down her cheeks and her throat clog, making her words come out in pathetic, disgusting sobs. She looked at the ground, wishing so hard that she could suddenly disappear and never be found.

She was pathetic, crying like a baby in front of the Count. He would now likely never want to see her ever again. No strong, important man like him would want anything to do with a weak excuse for a woman like her. God, she couldn't even face him without crying! How would she ever face the crime or death that came with police work?

The Count hadn't said anything, and his shoes hadn't yet moved. Seras harshly wiped at her cheeks with her gloved hands and began to walk away, hoping to save what little dignity she had left. She was weak, she was so, so disgusting, she-

She…

….

And then the next thing she knew was that she could not see, but heard different voices yelling her name and the names of others. She foggily braced herself for impact across unforgiving ground, but instead felt strong arms around her and her face brush against crisp, sweet-smelling fabric. The arms lowered her to the grassy ground and she felt something soft being placed under her legs. The nice, strong arms were still secure around her. A gloved hand lightly caressed her check and untied her bonnet, fingers brushed through her hair.

That made her happy.

Then she felt her eyes fluttered open, and at first there was nothing except for black and a flurry of disembodied voices and sounds. Slowly, ever so slowly, colors returned, shapes formed and lines sharpened to reveal worried faces and concerned and angry voices. Her mother, her mother's friend, and Mr. Thornsbury, were looking down at her, saying things that she couldn't quite yet decipher.

Seras looked down to see her legs slightly elevated by cushions too fine to be out on the grass, and even stranger yet, two gloved hands clasped firmly around her waist.

"You're defeating the purpose, Count. The blood won't get to her head in that manner; it's a stroke of good luck she even woke up a t'all." It was Mr. Thornsbury who was angry. Seras blinked, confused, and leaned back in to…

_Oh my god._

"It seems our Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened. As such I see no reason to change our position and risk worsening her sensitive state." The Count's voice reverberated against her back through their clothing. Seras immediately stiffened and tried to sit up, but his grip on her only tightened. She fidgeted and tried to speak, but everyone else was beating her to it. She his heat radiate from him to her, cocooning her in to a sense of security. She stopped fidgeting, and leaned in to the embrace.

"_You_ may think so, but it'd be best to see her home and to a doctor." Mr. Thornsbury sniffed with an ill hidden sneer, undoubtedly itching to land a well-placed punch in the Count's perfectly symmetrical face.

"Yes sir, you are quite right." The Count agreed with a grave face, final relinquishing his hold on Seras to gently lay her on the ground. Mr. Thornsbury seemed to be smugly satisfied for a moment before watching the Count bend down to sweep Seras into his arms as if she weighed nothing more than a kitten.

Seras' mouth fell open and her cheeks burned redder than she thought was physiologically possible, stuttering and fidgeting in his iron grip. "E-excuse me!" She called out, though didn't bother to restate when she was blatantly ignored. This was a special circumstance, after all, so the rules of etiquette could look the other way just this once… and it wasn't as if she particularly disliked her situation…

It was just good to keep up appearances. The more shocked, insulted, and unwilling the lady looked, and the more chivalrous the gentleman the more accepted such an intimate action could be. After all, such a breach was only being made in dire circumstances, and what could be direr than an ailing lady?

"Madam," The Count called out to Seras' mother, who at this point was also close to swooning, "we shall take my carriage." It was a question or a recommendation. If her mother hadn't given her consent almost before he stopped speaking, it could have been regarded as a kidnapping! Mr. Thornsbury was certainly saying it could have been as much, what with the Count so blatantly walking away with a lady _without the lady's consent. _

"You… you will ruin me." Seras muttered in embarrassment and a bit of amusement as he pushed their way out of the well-furnished townhome and down the expertly-laid stone staircase. She didn't have to look up to know he was wearing that awful smile, that same smile that used to haunt her.

"Only if you allow it to be so." The Count laughed dryly as he helped her in to the carriage before turning to her mother, who had been following them all this time. The ride back to the Victoria household was rather uneventful, but the respects paid afterward were quite the spectacle.

"You are truly a gracious man, My Lord. How might I ever repay you for the help you have given?" Mr. Victoria had said, albeit a bit begrudgingly once Seras had been escorted to her chambers and a doctor had been sent for. He didn't trust the man, the man who had taken an all too quick and eager interest in his daughter.

And the Count had only smiled, and Mr. Victoria instantly regretted his choice of words.

"My friend, I fear you have come to believe me to be too forward. So it is with great humbleness that I ask your permission to court your daughter."

And what could Mr. Victoria say to one who he was obligated to address as "My Lord?"

* * *

Edith stepped out of her carriage, clutching her silver crucifix close to her bosom, and replaying her visit at the Hellsing Estate over and over. She looked up to the front door, and her heart sank.

And then… _there he was._ Coming out of her home, of all places!

When had he gotten in? Who had let him in? How long had the beast been here?

Edith felt sick to her stomach… and then something else.

A strange, steely resolve. Looking back, Edith wasn't sure what exactly made her do it. Perhaps her courage had been stirred from her visit with the assertive Sir Hellsing, or perhaps she had just finally had enough of the constant fear for herself and for her sister. It was time that she faced the monster.

They met at the bottom of the step, Edith cutting him off just as he was about to make for his own polished coach. He regarded with disinterest, and asked her to get out of the way.

"I rebuke your invitation to this house." She hissed, clenching her fists and not able to meet his hidden gaze. "You are no longer welcome here." There. It was done. She grasped at her necklace again, only to be harshly shouldered aside- practically pushed on to her own stoop!

The Count left in stormy huff, and for the rest of the evening Edith wondered if she hadn't just let her fear get the better of her and insulted an innocent man.

But when Seras recovered from her illness in a matter of days, Edith knew she had made the right choice. It was a thought she needed when night after night she was kept awake by awful, sharp scraping and scratching outside her first-floor window accompanied by the ungodly growls and screeches of some demented creature.

* * *

**Notes:**

- Low Tea was traditionally held by the upper class and generally consisted of different types of tea, sweets, and small sandwiches that would not spoil their appetite for supper. Being able to afford high-quality foods in large quantities, for the upper classes' Low Tea was more of a high-end social snack than a meal. High Tea was enjoyed by the lower class and generally made to be the most important meal of day. As such more substantial foods were served with the tea such as vegetables, fruits, heavier sandwiches, soups, etc.

- There's no actual dukedom of Hampshire lol.

So, I need some help from our wonderful AxS fandom. I'm looking for this really well-written, excellent AxS oneshot. It was about a young Seras and her parents, who began to notice strange things happening to and around their daughter. The little girl befriends a seemingly wild dog (who I think may have protected her from a predator or something?) and reports dreaming of playing with an all-too real imaginary friend, her mom gets scared, blahblahblah... anyway, it was really really good and if you have an idea of what the story could be, could you drop the titles in with your review? Thanks so much! :)

And thank again to you guys for being so supportive of this story! Your reviews really push me to make this a good story, and I hope I'm living up to your standards! Please keep reviewing, I love you all haha!

This chapter's word count: **6,280**

See you next time!

- Della


	5. V

Disclaimer: Don't own _Hellsing_ and never will, but that's cool cause I'm chill.

(Lol don't worry, I'll stick to stories and not rap)

* * *

**V.**

Things were beginning to look up for Seras.

After the rather embarrassing and rumor-worthy episode at Mr. Thornsbury's tea, Seras had finally been forced to address her illness as something not to be ignored, and had such been sentenced to bed rest for a week. The physician her father had called for had diagnosed her with anemia, which didn't make much sense to Seras.

Anemia was by definitio, a decrease in the number of red blood cells or less than the normal amount of hemoglobin in the blood. It was caused by a variety of medical terms that Mrs. Victoria hadn't bothered to care about: blood loss, vitamin deficiency, blood cell abnormalities. After a run through with her mother regarding Seras' diet,, the physician had determined the cause to be vitamin deficiency whose effects had been magnified by stress (apparently she was "too anxious,") a lack of sufficient oxygen (that damn corset!) and heat exhaustion (because 70 degrees was too hot.) All of these factors had culminated and severely weakened her to where her body could not physically take it anymore.

"Could blood loss also account for anemia?" Edith had inquired as she, her mother, and the doctor sat at Seras' bedside the night of her swoon.

There was a beat. "Yes, I suppose such is possible in certain cases." He responded with an eyebrow raised in unspoken question.

"Seras hasn't loss any blood, Doctor." Mrs. Victoria had explained, writing off her daughter's rather odd question as mere curiosity. Edith was silent for the remainder of the exam- not as if anyone had noticed anyway.

She was assigned a prescription, put on a week of bed rest, and a required daily fluid intake – and you know what? It was working! She was feeling better! By the third day Seras had felt like she had gone right back to normal, and by the fifth she was getting a bit stir crazy. Thankfully Edith was her side in the mornings before she and her mother left for the afternoon, and faithfully came back to sit with Seras in the evenings to make fun of the stuffy people she had been forced to entertain.

It felt like old times as they gossiped about the handsome young men who had begun to follow Edith like love struck puppies and their jealous sweethearts, carefully sidestepping around any mention of the Count. They laughed at the overworked jokes in the print, and gobbled up Dickens' latest installments. Nora brought up dinner on a tray for both of them, and they ate in Seras' room by candlelight like sneaky children.

It was a nice little reprieve from the inevitable, the matter that was still lurking in the back of their minds. The matter whose unopened letters to Seras remained on the stairwell, and whose flowers had been delivered to the sitting room instead of Seras' bedroom. Flowers could after all cause allergies, and what kind of sister would Edith be if she worsened Seras' condition?

But no one can stop the inevitable.

It was on the morning of the sixth day that Seras was finally allowed out of her chambers and back in to household life, albeit slowly. She had practically jumped down the stairs on her way to breakfast still in her sleeping gown, much to her mother's distaste but her doctor's approval, and almost slipped on the stack of letters and sent them flying.

"Oh bother!" Seras bent to pick them up, frowning when she realized they were all addressed to her. Now, that was funny. She really wasn't that popular… at all. In fact, aside from Edith, she didn't have many female friends.

The letters were addressed to her in a heavy, elegant hand that labored over her name with rich, dark ink. There was no return address, but there was a red wax seal on the back of each envelope. Seras couldn't help the goofy grin. Without an address, she knew exactly who had sent her these letters. His penmanship matched him, after all: dark and beautiful.

Oh, wow. Just when had she gotten so corny?

He had written her every day since she had fallen ill at Mr. Thornsbury's party! Her heart fluttered as she struggled to tear the seal, all but forgetting that the rest of her family was waiting on her to breakfast. Oh well, they could wait! It wasn't as if their meal was going to get up and run off somewhere if she was late.

Approaching footsteps on worn hardwood alert her that yes, it was probably a good time to set the letters aside for now. God only knew what her family would do if they realized that she was receiving multiple letters from, _gasp_, a suitor. Well, they probably would've been fine with letters from a suitor. Thanks to Edith's little whispers in their ear, it would only be a problem if they were from the Count. Seras startled when she heard soft footsteps behind her and rushed to practically throw the letters behind one of the Ming vases in the foyer. She didn't exactly want to share whatever the Count had written with her family, whose matriarch interpreted every look as a "lovers' longing" and every sigh as "a hint of what was to come." Mothers.'

"Miss Seras?" Oh, thank God, it was only Nora. But Seras still had her hand stuck behind the vase, and looked anything but innocent.

"Time for breakfast already?" Seras laughed with a bright red face before Nora could say anything. "Oh, how time flies!"

But after the family had disbanded after breakfast, Edith to Rotten Row,* her father to his law office, her mother to the florist and she to her room, Seras found that perhaps her so-called love letters weren't so scandalous after all. Well, they were still relatively scandalous; after all, what respectable lady received five letters from a suitor in the five days after he received permission to court her? They had only known each other for three weeks as well… wasn't there some sort of period they had to go through before they courted?

Oh, well. She had begun to enjoy her time with the Count enough to cease caring about such petty things… though, perhaps it was in both their best interests that she not tarnish her reputation in any way. No respectable gentleman like the Count would ever been seen with a lady in disgrace…

Seras frowned as she closed her chamber door behind her, letters in hand. She didn't want something as silly as societal opinion to get in the way of what was becoming a blossoming relationship. Seras had actually begun to like the Count. Certainly he was eccentric and peculiar, but he was also chivalrous, generous, beautiful, and charismatic. He had a certain blunt wit and cynical sense of humor that she appreciated. Such was very much present in his letters:

_April 4, _

_Miss Victoria,_

_It is to my understanding that you have fallen ill, a fact that serves as a scant surprise. I lament that you will become a shut-in for an indeterminable period of time._

Ah yes, so romantic.

Seras was glad she was the one to be opening his letters. Neither Edith nor her mother could have been able to appreciate such… wit…

His other letters were just about as lengthy and sentimental as the first, though his most recent letter, which had been dated just the day prior, threatened at him paying a visit to the Victoria household if he did not receive word from her or her family at some point. Seras had smiled like a loon when she read that bit, and stuck it in the necklace drawer of her jewelry case for safekeeping because she knew that it was the closest thing she'd get to a love letter from him (for now.)

It was that day that she took the time to finally respond, and it was on the sixth day that she was pronounced well and recovered enough to go out and about for short periods of time – and by "go out," she was able to mill about other parts of the household for as long as she wished. It was on the seventh day, just another Sunday, that Seras put her reclaimed freedom to use.

The grandfather clock in the drawing room had just begun to chime half-after eight when there was a brisk knock at the front door. The Victoria family sat together in the drawing room listening to Mr. Victoria read from Revelations as the women caught up with their sewing, the sisters unglamorously seated on the floor surrounded by spare needles and thread. It really wasn't the tidiest predicament, but it was a cozy and well-worn tradition of their family that Seras particularly enjoyed. Their mother seemed to agree with the sentiment, and for the only time in the week she did not nag her daughters to keep their posture or practice their conversation skills.

The day had been unusually frigid for April, and a smoldering fire crackled in the background. The shadows had lengthened as the evening wore on, and the setting sun cast a warm glow through the sparkling windows. Edith and Seras sat in companionable silence, enjoying their father' narration of one of the prophets, and simply relaxed.

And then there was that knock, Mr. Victoria had stopped, and the moment was over. As Nora went to answer the call with a "Please, do come in," Mrs. Victoria literally leapt in to action from her perch on the faded settee next to her husband, accidentally kicking a basket of yarn and sending the spools everywhere. Edith grimaced and exchanged an exasperated glance with Seras. Mr. Victoria sighed and bookmarked his page before gently setting the Bible down on the dark oak side table next to him.

"My dear, there is hardly a need for such fuss when we do not know whether or not we have company."

Mr. Victoria bit back a sigh. Recently he found a reason to sigh too often in his line of work, and refused to have that carry in to his home. Edith bit her lip and quietly stood to help her mother collect the spools.

"Well, you know that it's better safe than sorry especially when is as in a state as sorry as our own, and 'tis-' Mrs. Victoria had begun to spout something about preparedness as she bent over to right of the toppled basket, but her breath caught in her throat when she looked up to remind Mr. Victoria that she hadn't married an immobile statue. She heard Edith whisper something under her breath from beside her, but chose to ignore such behavior for now; they'd speak of such a lapse later.

The Count had decided to pay their little family a visit. He stood in the entryway to the drawing room with Nora at his side, her small frail frame making his all the larger in comparison. He hadn't even taken his marroon duster off, and he still held a wolf-headed cane in his hand. He didn't seem to be planning on staying for long.

"What a wel-welcome surprise, My Lord!" Mrs. Victoria found herself stuttering, and admonished herself for it in her thoughts. She, of all people, stuttering?

But another side of her, a more realist side, did not chastise her for it. How fair would it be to do so? It was so strange to observe the tall, broad shouldered man in her doorway; she wondered how he had fit through it at all. The Count was undeniably beautiful, a creature more likely to be found in an exotic castle in a fable than her drab, outdated drawing room. She knew she should've gotten the purple-floral patterned wallpaper instead of the orange, and she should've changed the curtains when she had the chance over the week!

She could only hope that her bad decisions wouldn't deter him from Seras.

"My Lord, it is a honor to receive you." Mr. Victoria stood from his seat, prompting Seras to do the same. Edith stood beside her mother, clutching an armful of yarn almost protectively to her chest.

"My Lord, may I be of assistance?" Nora asked demurely from behind him, unable to enter the room.

The Count smiled with ill-concealed amusement (and was that malice?) as he shook Mr. Victoria's hand, blatantly ignoring Nora and Mrs. Victoria, before offering him and then Seras a baleful grin. "It's a beautiful night." He stepped further in to the room which had seemed to shrink in his domineering presence and effectively commandeered their attention.

"Oh yes! The sunset is especially lovely!" Seras piped up, ignoring the sudden discreet jab of the elbow in the stomach from Edith.

Seras gave her sister a skeptical look from the corner of her eye before turning back to the Count. Not this "he's dangerous!" nonsense again! Ever since the Count had taken her and her mother home from the Sunday last, Edith had been acting rather strange… and more religious.

She had practically forced Seras to wear a drab silver crucifix and complained when she took it off for less than a minute, and had nailed a cross in every room of the home. No one had complained, because who would complain about piousness, but Seras was certain everyone found Edith's resurgence into the faith as strange as she did. Edith had also become rather jumpy and paranoid, and Seras was almost sure she had been having trouble sleeping if the dark purple and brown bags under her eyes were anything to go.

Not to mention that she had tea with that strange Sir Hellsing again, and any mere whisper of the Count put Edith in a foul mood.

"Especially lovely, indeed. Though perhaps not as lovely as the ladies I'm graced to be speaking to." The Count turned his gaze on her, smiling wickedly. Seras couldn't help the bashful smile and sudden flush of color over her cheeks. He looked back to Mr. Victoria again, smile persistent.

"Oh, my Lord!" Mrs. Victoria laughed flirtatiously to Edith and the Count's disgust.

"I have rudely interrupted your evening to selfishly ask for the favor of Miss Seras' company on an evening stroll about your neighborhood…" The Count began once Mrs. Victoria had calmed herself. "…with the proper accompaniment, of course." He added upon catching Mr. Victoria's questioning gaze.

"Of course." Mr. Victoria repeated in emphasis. The Count's smile flickered slightly.

Seras, seeing her chance, decided that now was the best time to get her word in on the matter.

"I would be delighted to make your acquaintance, My Lord… if you don't mind being seen with such a plain lady to-night." Seras' eyes darted to her rather dated, a bit faded dress that she wore simply for her own comfort on private nights where none but her own family would see her. It was for that reason that her mother allowed her to do so. At the present time her hair wasn't anything remarkable either, and she bore no jewels or anything remotely expensive.

All in all, Seras wouldn't have been surprised if the Count did decided to call on her another time. He, dressed in the usual fine silk and perfectly tailored ensemble, certainly deserved better. For God's sake, was that a pendant of pure onyx clipped to his necktie? Yes, yes it was. Seras felt acutely more self-conscious.

"No, not at all." His smile, as cheeky as it was malicious, was directed at her. Embarrassment and indignation flowed through her; well, maybe now she didn't want to go with him anyway!

"Wonderful! I'm in need of a bit of exercise myself, why don't I play chaperone!" Mrs. Victoria announced as she practically threw her yarn on to the settee in her excitement, disregarding the wicker basket Edith had laid next to her.

Well, maybe now Seras didn't have a choice in deciding whether or not she would go with him.

"Well, I would hate for the Count to see be seen with someone beneath one of his status." Seras sniffed, still stung by the Count's last snub. The room was quiet for a moment. There was muffled, unladylike snort from Edith's direction. Mr. and Mrs. Victoria stared at their daughter, flabbergasted, before turning to gauge the Count's reaction.

But the Count didn't offer much insight to such a matter. If one had been watching closely, it would be seen that for a short moment he was caught just as off guard as the Victorias had been before recovering in to an unsettling fit of chuckles.

"I wouldn't worry Police Girl, I believe we've been seen enough for such an issue to take minor precedence."

Oh…oh good Lord…

Why had he seen the need to call her that name in front of her family? _In front of her mother_? And to word such a statement to be so _suggestive,_ as if their gallivanting around the streets of London was a regular occurrence!

"I-I will need a shawl!" Seras squaked, making her escape from what was bound to be an either awkward or confrontational conversation. As she spirited past him, she caught the glint of white from an upturned lip, the crease of an eyebrow. He enjoyed her torment.

But she was only happy that he had found something about someone as odd and strange as her to enjoy.

There was a murmur of conversation in the drawing room as she withdrew her mauve shawl under a hidden closet under the staircase, sighing when she draped it over her should. It was such a depressing, plain color and perfectly matched her mousy dress of depressing, faded green. It was an ensemble that matched her, a plain Jane next to a magnificent man.

To picture her walking at his side, pale and boring, an example of whom he chose to associate with… Seras was embarrassed for him.

And embarrassment, it seemed, had no intention of leaving her.

"It is a beautiful night." The Count repeated himself as he joined her in the foyer, his steps soundless and swift. Her mother trudged in right after him, eyeing Seras warily, as if just daring her to mess this up.

"It is indeed." Seras agreed demurely, pulling the shawl closer to her as she stepped out the front door once her mother was ready. The Count had never taken off his outer-wear to begin with.

They started down the sidewalk side by side with Mrs. Victoria a respectable distance behind them, just out of earshot but not out of sight. Their pace was slow and leisurely and matched the melancholy atmosphere of the Sunday twilight, shops' windows dark and empty, streetlamps just beginning to be lit. It was hardly a time to be walking around with a suitor.

The Count seemed to realize this as well. "I'm sorry to say that you will not find me available to be dragged about during the daylight hours, Police Girl." He said rather snidely, as if all she found him good for were bragging privileges.

"Oh no, that's alright!" Seras ignored the insinuation. She didn't think of him as some exotic accessory. "I'm happy to be with you, my Lord, whenever the time's convenient! I am certain one as important as you has little time for leisure." She would take whatever he was willing to offer.

The Count didn't say anything in response, and they continued on in companionable silence for a time.

"Porphyria." The Count broke the silence as they turned a corner, maneuvering to assure that he stood closest to the street and Seras was spared.*

"I bed your pardon, my Lord?" What was that supposed to mean? Was it Romanian or something?

"I suffer from Porphyria, Police Girl." He said rather gruffly, as if he hated admitting a weakness. "It is a skin condition that causes me great distress if I expose myself to the sun for too long a time."

Seras blinked. "You joined us in the yard at Mr. Thornsbury's tea…"

The Count mumbled something under his breath that Seras didn't catch before taking her hand to place it on his arm. She gasped at his forwardness and the fact that he had yet to let go of her hand – probably because he knew she would remove it once he detached his grip. "Why do you think I only sent you letters, Miss Victoria, and never visited in person? I needed time for my own body to recuperate." He returned, no amusement found in his voice.

Seras bit her lip and looked down at her rather scuffed boots. She seemed to be the worst person he could've been with tonight, what with the mess she looked and the inadvertent accusations she had thrown his way.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. You are a terribly resilient person to bear such a burden; you are truly a strong man." She meant it sincerely, genuinely, and it seemed to register with the Count. His features softened ever-so-slightly, and he removed his hand to pat her little gloved one.

"You are too naïve, Police Girl." He reinstated his grip on her hand and pulled it in closer to his forearm, effectively pulling her a little closer as well. Not as if she minded, however. The walked so close to each other, the fabric of his jacket brushing against the material of her shawl with every step; Seras hoped he couldn't hear her heartbeat like she could, frantically pulsing in her ear.

They walked like that for a while, conversation not seemingly terribly important in the whitewashed light of the rising full moon. Every once in a while one of them would comment on something, whether it be on a little shop passed or a passing thought, but otherwise allowed silence to take its course.

That was something Seras liked about the Count. He found no need for petty small talk, to speak merely for the sake of speaking. It was a welcome change from the usual arrangement of irrelevant conversations she was expected to have with almost everyone else she met. It was wonderful to find someone who wasn't afraid of the quiet.

A quiet that was all too quickly disturbed.

A metal door only feet behind them, squeaky from years' worth of rust, suddenly crashed open (and practically in to Seras' back.) The Count reacted – grabbing her around the waist and pulling her protectively against his chest while raising his walking stick in the other to address whatever unsavory creature was getting a head start in the early night. Seras stiffened at the contact, watching with wide eyes as the possibly assailant moved to reveal himself from behind the door. She cursed herself for not taking a different route; while this way hadn't had a bad reputation, it certainly hadn't had an outstanding one either. And now the Count could get in to trouble on her behalf!

It would've been more romantic if the Count hadn't been so scary in that moment, his cool breath brushing over her hair in a silent hiss, muscles tense and ready to act. He was ready to attack, ready to bare his teeth and sink them in to whoever the poor, wretched criminal was.

"Pip! Pip Bernadotte! What in heaven's name are you doing in that wretched place?" Mrs. Victoria's call seemed to confuse the Count, who lowered his cane but didn't release his rather inappropriate though protective hold on Seras.

Mrs. Victoria saw him first, stumbling out of an unaffiliated rusty door on the edge of an alley, but once he came in to their view Seras breathed a sigh of relief. The Frenchman was clad in dark peasant clothing that looked fit for the armed forces as opposed to polite society, and was that a gun in his ragged olive green jacket? From the Count's strengthened hold on her to him, she assumed so.

Pip blinked and threw his long chestnut briad over his shoulder, first jumping around to face Mrs. Victora, and then Seras, and then back again. The Count wasn't assumed.

"What _the hell_ did you think you were doing?" He snarled, his voice frightening and accusatory. Pip flinched and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, wisely casting his eyes down – only to lay sight on Seras.

"Why, it's Seras Victoria! Why are you out here in ze dark,_ Cher_?" Pip grinned at her, choosing to ignore the Count for the time being. "And Mrs. Victoria, _mon chou_, how happy I am to zee you!" He turned to address the older woman, who wore a looked crossed with surprise, agitation, and excitement.

Seras forced her way out of the Count's arms as Pip addressed her mother, offering him a shy smile when she heard him practically hiss under his breath. He seemed to be quite moody tonight, and while she was suspected she bore a share of the blame for his unhappiness, Seras wasn't about to let him keep her from seeing her dear friend! She hadn't seen him for several weeks!

"Pip! Oh, Pip, what in heaven's name gives you the right to frighten us so!" Seras laughed as the young man rushed to her at her call, grabbing her waist to spin her around in the air as if they were long-lost lovers. He smelled like cigarette smoke and cotton. Seras didn't turn to see the Count's reaction to their reunification; she didn't have to to know that he was probably less than pleased.

"_Ma chérie, _the sight of you is like water to a man dying of thirst! How good it is to see you!" Pip cheered once he set her down, taking her thin forearms in his large, calloused hands. Seras didn't comment on the fact that he was skirting around her question.

Pip was Seras' senior by several years, but a long time ago he had lived down the block from the Victoria household with his mercantile parents. Seras and Pip had met in Sunday school; nether had wanted to be there, so a common bond was formed and utilized in times of classroom filibustering and blatant disregard for the forced memorization of prayers. The fact that the two lived so close only heightened a bond of camaraderie to full-blown blood-brotherhood (or sisterhood, in Seras' case) that lasted through childhood and adolescence. It was only after Pip graduated from Oxford and then promptly disappeared off the face of the planet that they began to drift a part. Sera had always suspected – er, known- that there was more to their friendship on Pip's part, but as a childhood best friend he was practically granted a pardon from her family from the irritating civility-game young men and women played with each other.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Seras whispered conspiratorially with a raised brow. Pip only smiled in response, but it didn't reach his eyes. They told a second story that Seras longed to know for his sake. Pip had never been one to internalize.

"What I have had to do, _mon ange_." It was less than she had hoped for, but more than she knew she would've gotten had she been anyone else.

A loud, over exaggerated cough broke the moment. The two friends jumped together, Seras' tinkling laugh harmonizing with Pip's deeper one. There was a _tap-tap-tapping_ on the sidewalk, the unmistakable glint of a well-polished shoe.

The Count was certainly a frightening man. Seras' smile fell for a split second as her eyes drifted over his sunglasses, afraid of what she would have found had they not been hidden.

"I apologize, I have forgotten myself!" Seras broke away from Pi's embrace, standing in between the two men. The Count glowered at her, arms crossed, foot still tapping with obviously implied impatience. He seemed to get bigger in such a threatening posture, and he did nothing to make himself any less intimidating to her or Pip. She laughed, trying to lighten the sudden tension, but it came out strained and awkward. Her mother did nothing to alleviate the situation.

"My Lord, may I introduce my childhood friend, Mr. Pip Bernadotte? And Pip, might I introduce the honorable Count Dracul the fifth of Wallachia?" Seras said gesturing from the Count to Pip and then from Pip to the Count. Pip bowed politely before extending his hand to the Count, who merely looked at it and sneered in disdain. Seras blanched.

Pip frowned and drew back his hand. There was silence for a long moment.

"Well, Pip, you will have to pay us a visit to catch up!" Mrs. Victoria had apparently decided to finally take initiative and joined the conversation, laying her hand gently on Pip's arm. Pip's face broke out in another half-hearted smile.

"Certainly!" He laughed, before glancing around them. "It is late. I apologize, I must go." His leave was as curt as his goodbye, offering Seras a light handshake and another (though rather forced) bow to the Count before crossing the street. Seras watched him blend in to the shadows of the street, which was uncomfortably empty.

"It seems we are out rather late as well." She began uncertainly, unsure of what the Count's opinion on the matter was. Unfortunately for her, he didn't seem bothered in the least.

"Indeed." His voice was still strained, and he seemed to still be mulling over their run-in with Pip. That didn't stop him from regaining hold of her hand once they began to walk again, not letting it leave his arm until they finally returned to the household an hour later.

* * *

**Notes:**

- Rotten Row is a well maintained horse track along the south side of Hyde Park in London, and was the place for all fashionable upper class ladies and gentleman to be seen.

- It's an old custom that the man walk near to the street than the woman so that in case a carriage would pass and splash hay or mud or God only knew what else on the passerby, the woman would be spared. Good old chivalry for you

A special thanks to the reviewers (**zKrazy1, sakanascales876, PinkTypewritter**) who found Machination for me – one of my personal favorite Alucard/Seras one shots! I knew I could trust you guys.

I admit that this chapter wasn't my favorite, and is a bit shorter than the others. It was a bit rushed but then I just found out some rather stressful news about my financial aid standing at my university, so that took precedence over this. I also found this chapter a bit difficult to gel with, but it was a necessary evil and served to transition in to the next few chapters. In case anyone was wondering, the plot has only just begun… the real action will begin next time! I'm sooo excited (even though I don't have the ending plotted out yet lol!)

A super humungous thank you to everyone who reviews this story! I know I say it every time, but it always brightens my day to see a new review pop up. Some of you go rather in depth- I feel honored haha. So if you have a little time after reading this chapter, please take the time to tell me what you think, how the plot's moving, if the characterization is believable and all that jazz. Now I'm going to eat some fudge.

See you all next time!

- Della


	6. Special Announcement

**{A/N} **Hello everyone!

First of all, as you can see this is not a new chapter - sorry to disappoint.

I'm posting this special announcement to let you all know that Chapter Six, which was originally intended to be posted on May 5th, is going to be delayed until May 12th at the latest. I'm going to try to get it out as close to May 5th as I can, but I can't make any promises. There are a few reasons for the delay:

1) AP Exams are being held May 5th-16th, and I'm taking five sooo... yeah. I still have quite a bit of studying left to do for those hehehe... ugh.

2) I don't want to give you all a sucky chapter, because my writing usually takes a turn for the worse when I'm stressed and distracted.

3) This chapter is also just going to take a whole while longer to write. I'll be surprised if it's under 8k words, and it's very important to the plot of the story. I want to make sure that I get it down right

I really, really, _really_ hate to do this, but it's a necessary evil.

I'll see you guys soon!

- Della


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